


hell is heaven (as long as it's with you)

by NotOneLine



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, BAMF Lucifer, Deckerstar - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hell, Hell Trauma, Hurt Lucifer, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Really Character Death, Post-Season/Series 04, Protective Chloe Decker, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotOneLine/pseuds/NotOneLine
Summary: When Lucifer returns to Earth, their reunion is everything Chloe dreamed of.There's just one problem.Lucifer left Hell...Hell didn't leave Lucifer.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Linda Martin, Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Linda Martin & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Comments: 288
Kudos: 499





	1. In Your Arms, I Surrender

On reflection, he could admit, it was a bad call in judgement.

It was foolish to act as if he could just waltz back into Hell as though he’d never left. Misguided to assume that the demons would just fall into line, that he held the same power over them as he had done for eons. Arrogant to think that he could quash a full on rebellion alone.

But deluding himself into believing that Hell no longer had power over him? That he had nothing left to feel guilty for? That was the worst mistake of all.

And it wasn’t until they threw his broken and bleeding body into a cell, that he realised just how wrong he had been.

…

He could feel the true scope of the guilt that weighed so heavily upon his soul the instant he saw the door. _His_ door. It had grown like a cancer, infinitesimal at first, so convinced was he that he had done the right thing in leaving. But centuries upon centuries gives a Devil time to think… and to regret. Memories of her grief as he bid her goodbye haunted him, as did the knowledge that he had denied her the one thing she had ever asked him for, the one thing she truly desired.

_Please, don’t go._

That poisonous black tar of guilt crept through his veins, constantly trying to pull him down, down, _down,_ away from his duty, away from the seat of power from which he reigned over this place. Power he had told himself would keep him safe from the horrors that waited below. 

No throne can be held forever though, not even by those able to live that long. The empire he built was crumbling, and he fell right along with it, just at the point he thought he could fall no further. Had he been in any condition to do so, he might have fought Hell’s grip, as he had from the moment he returned. For nothing was more important than ensuring the Earth was safe, that _she_ was safe, not even the punishment he himself deserved.

But as he crossed the threshold, his guilt overwhelmed him, Hell easily slipping past any resistance he had left. He could do nothing as it flooded out of him, soaking into the floor, the walls, his prison absorbing the knowledge it would need to twist itself into something from his nightmares. The second his body hit the ground, the obsidian stone surrounding him vanished, replaced by cool, familiar marble. 

When he opened his eyes, it was the penthouse that welcomed him, just as it did before. Just as he had expected. And now, there was only one thing missing.

He braced himself for the sound of the piano.

...

But it never came.

His home remained deathly silent. He lay motionless in a twisted heap upon the floor, listening to his ragged breathing echoing in the emptiness, with no chance of aid or rescue. _Perhaps this was to be his punishment,_ he thought. An eternity by himself, the consequence of choosing to leave all those that he loved behind. _All those he loved…_ who could be in danger now, because he had allowed himself to be defeated. After he had _failed_ , yet again. Despite the agony it caused, he forced himself to turn his head, a small sob of relief escaping him as he saw the elevator standing there, its doors wide open, his way out just waiting for him to walk through.

And yet… he could barely move as it was. Even in his addled state, he knew the moment he stepped outside of those doors, the demons would throw him right back in again. He was their king; a fact he had delighted in reminding them of for eons. They knew perfectly well what he was capable of. He had little doubt there would be multiple guards stationed outside, the best warriors Hell had to offer. Even worse, any attempt at escape might lead to further measures in order to subdue him. It would be just his luck for one of his subjects to have a bright idea for once in their miserable lives, and use the very chains that had once bound his mother to secure his cell. Gaining his freedom after something like that would be impossible.

No, it was better he rested. Battling his way out of here would require his full strength, and that something he had little to none of right now. In the meantime, all he had to do was resist whatever Hell had in store for him. If this was it, then isolation was an easier punishment than he could have hoped for. He was more than used to being abandoned, to being alone. Countless millennia with only demons for company will do that to a Devil. And he had a purpose now, a mission even more important than last time he was stuck here. But now the goal wasn’t to fight to get back to Earth to save one life, but to stay right here in Hell, to save many. 

With that aim in mind, he began to move, grabbing onto whatever he could to haul his limp, useless body along the floor, his legs having long since refused to obey his commands. Finally, he was able to drag himself up the stairs to his bedroom, where, through sheer force of will, he managed to maneuver himself onto the bed. Relief consumed him. It was just as he remembered it. The mattress was a comforting embrace for his shattered bones, the satin a soothing caress against his ruined skin. After so many years of no sleep at all, the exhaustion that overtook him was swift and undeniable.

The second he closed his eyes though, he felt the bed dip beside him. Instinctively, he froze, waiting for the attack to come, knowing he would be unable to do anything to prevent it. But nothing happened. And on the next breath, he realised why.

The scent of her washed over him, familiar and sweet. The sense of longing he felt from the moment he left her side burst into life, and when his eyes fluttered open again, it was as though awakening from a nightmare into a dream. She was here. She was _here_ , and although she couldn’t be, although he didn’t _want_ her to be, it was true all the same. 

Unbidden, his hand rose to caress her face, the last of his reservations fading in the irresistible desire to hold her again. Even in the near darkness of the penthouse, her golden hair and sea green eyes were all he could see, all he cared to see after so long. Her skin was soft and warm against his hand, and he shuddered at the feel of it. When she ran her fingertips gently across the side of his cheek in return, his vision became blurry, the flood of emotions her touch invoked threatening to overwhelm him.

Blinking his tears away, he found her leaning over his body, the love he had for her reflected back at him in her eyes. Her lips brushed his own, and joy like none he had ever known bubbled up inside him. Greedily, he took all she had to offer, her kiss a breath of free air to a man who had drowned in darkness and ash for too long. When they finally parted, silence settled between them. He was almost afraid to speak, as though the sound of his voice might make her disappear.

But she was there, she was _real_ , and she deserved to know everything he had failed to tell her on Earth. Starting with one simple truth.

“Oh,” he sighed, resting his forehead against hers, relishing in being close to her once more. “How I have missed you.”

Something shifted inside the room, and in that moment he knew with surety that if he looked towards the elevator now, the doors would be shut. But he didn’t care. She was here. Hell had opened her arms, and he embraced her willingly.

“I love you,” Chloe said, smiling for the first time.

“I love you, _and you left me._ ”

The world went black.

…

_'He’s alive.'_

The all-consuming relief when she saw those words nearly caused the phone she held to fall from her hands. From the moment Amenadiel and Maze left for Hell, over an hour ago now, she hadn’t moved from this spot, her eyes glued to the screen, holding it so tightly she wouldn’t have been surprised if the screen started to crack. Her fingers were stiff as she made to call Linda back, but she paid them no mind, desperate to hear from the only person that mattered right now, the only person that had monopolised her mind for months. Lucifer.

_Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer._

It was almost three weeks since they had last heard from him. Not that their contact had been great to any extent before that; merely affirmations passed on through prayers to Amenadiel that he was fine and that everything was under control. No well wishes, no details of what exactly was going on down there, and most painfully of all, no messages for her. She understood why, she really did, but it didn’t stop the hurt of what felt like rejection.

_I was afraid you would forget about me._

She was no fool either. ‘Fine’ did not mean he was okay, physically _or_ emotionally. Linda surmised much the same. But what could they do? He was unreachable, untouchable. The one time Amenadiel tried to visit, he was met with what sounded like a veritable army at the gates. There was nothing she could do but hope it was an army under Lucifer’s control. They all knew he was unlikely to tell anyone if it wasn’t, not until it was far too late.

And far too late, apparently, was three weeks ago. Every day from the first time his brother was unable to reach him was filled with research, strategising, and unanswered pleas for assistance from above. Their first attempt to breach the walls was unsuccessful to the extreme, Maze’s claims of wanting to return home dismissed outright. It took her a week to recover from her injuries, and still she said her siblings were lenient in letting her leave. One last act of respect for the lilim that had climbed higher than them all. It was a fealty they all knew she would not be granted again.

Still, her failure was the confirmation they needed. Lucifer had either left Hell, something that could have only happened by force, or he was trapped in a cell. Maze was unable to sense him anywhere, and she knew her brothers and sisters were lying when they claimed their king was safe and well. _“Safe,”_ she’d spat. _"W_ _hen did the Lord of Hell ever need to be described as ‘safe’?”_

And so the plan was formed. Chloe wasn’t privy to the details, both Maze and Amenadiel in agreement for once that humans shouldn’t be involved. There was nothing she could do, therefore she didn’t need to know. But Linda knew, that much was obvious. She could tell from the way she held Charlie so tightly as they prepared to leave, in how Amenadiel kissed his son’s forehead before spreading his wings. They both knew there was a strong possibility he wouldn’t be coming back. Which meant Lucifer wouldn’t be coming back either.

He would be lost to her forever.

It made sense now, how Maze had insisted on taking Trixie out for the day yesterday. She was saying goodbye.

But they were _back._ They made it back, and they were alive.

_Lucifer was alive._

And nobody was picking up the damn phone.

Alive told her nothing. Alive wasn’t dead, but it didn’t mean not _dying_. It didn’t mean that he wasn't severely wounded, or worse, that he hadn't been injured permanently in some way. Could angels be damaged that badly? There was still so much she didn’t know, so many questions she hadn’t asked, so many she _should_ have asked. And what precious little information she did have, only made things more difficult.

_You make me vulnerable._

“You can’t stay,” Linda had reminded her, as Amenadiel and Maze prepared to leave. Despite the fear in her eyes, there was sympathy there too. “You know why.”

Chloe never felt so helpless. The drive home was a blur, her mind consumed by an endless tornado of worries that refused to leave her alone for even a second.

_“It shouldn’t be long. Time moves differently in Hell.”_

How differently, nobody could tell her. Maze had only visited Earth twice in the last century, and she simply hadn’t cared how much time passed in between. “That was always Lucifer’s thing,” she said with a shrug. “He found how the world changed while he was gone fascinating, for some reason. One day humans are poking things with sticks, the next they're playing with the wheel. Not that impressive, if you ask me.”

Amenadiel didn’t know either, but mainly because he had never asked. His task was to return Lucifer to Hell; anything outside of that wasn’t his concern. In a way, that was even worse. Not only was he responsible for ensuring his brother remained in that dreadful place, but the fact that he had never shown the slightest bit of concern about what it was like for Lucifer there…

As far as she was concerned, the shame on his face when he admitted that was more than deserved. At least he was trying to make up for it now though. She only wished the rest of his family would do the same.

Chloe’s heart thudded to the beat of the phone as it continued to ring.

_Why weren’t they answering?_

Multiple scenarios ran through her head, all of them ending with Lucifer leaving her in some way, _again_. But this time, with no chance for her to say goodbye. Unable to stop herself any longer—and against her better judgement—she quickly gathered her things, intent on getting to Lux as fast as possible. It was logical to assume they’d taken him straight back there. No matter how bad of a state he was in, a hospital would be too much of a risk. After all, he wasn’t mortal…

...unless she was there.

Defeatedly, she put down her bag again. She was being reckless. What if she went there and just made things worse? She’d never forgive herself. Not after everything it had taken for him to get here again. Back on Earth, where he belonged. _Home._

She collapsed back on the sofa, keys still in her hand. Her eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, then back to her phone again. Angrily, she disconnected the call, before throwing it away from her. The need to _do_ something crawled inside her skin. This was her partner, and she hated having to fight against the instinct that she should be there with him.

And, of course, there also was the fact he wasn’t entirely _just_ her partner anymore. She wasn’t sure what they were now. If their time apart was longer for him than it was for her, had his feelings changed? Or worse, had he forgotten her entirely, just like she had feared? For her part, everything was the same. It had been nearly a year, and she still felt as though a vital part of her was missing.

_I love you._

_It was you, Chloe. It always has been._

They had missed out on their chance to be together so many times. She was determined not to let it happen again.

The sound of her phone ringing blared into the room, Linda’s number lighting up the screen. Scrambling across the cushions, Chloe grabbed it, desperately swiping multiple times across the screen to accept the call.

“Is he okay? Are _you_ okay? What’s going on?”

She was well aware she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. The last hour and a half had been torture, and she couldn’t bear to wait a single second more.

“It’s alright, Chloe. He’s going to be alright, they all are.”

If she thought she had felt relieved before, it was nothing compared to the weight that was lifted from her chest when she heard those words, a weight she hadn’t really been fully aware of until now. It wasn’t even until she went to brush the hair back from her face that she realised she was crying. “How bad is it?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice steady as she fought to wrestle her emotions back under some semblance of control.

“He’ll be fine, that’s all you need to focus on right now,” Linda said kindly, and Chloe could hear the same kind of relief there that she was currently experiencing.

“When can I come over?” she asked, unsure if her friend would actually be able to give her an answer, but hoping by some miracle that she could. She needed to see him, wouldn’t be able to rest until she saw him with her own eyes.

“Now, if you’d like. He’s sleeping, but I’m sure he would want you to be here when he wakes up.” There was a pause, and Linda must have picked up on Chloe’s confusion, for she continued with, “Amenadiel says his injuries are celestial in nature. You won’t do any more hard by being here.”

Despite her anxiety, a small smile started to grow on Chloe’s face as she picked up her keys again.

“I’m on my way.”

…

Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. Lucifer was almost unrecognisable, every inch of his body not hidden by bandages littered in scars, swelling, and bruises. She didn’t need to be trained in forensics to see the burns, the gashes, the discolouration around his throat when he had obviously been strangled with something. Repeatedly, judging by the markings. There was even what looked like bullet wounds marring his once perfect skin.

_“Chloe.”_

The voice in her ear and a hand on her shoulder snapped her back into the room. Linda stood there, stoic as always, but even she was unable to completely hide the concern upon her face. Her gaze kept sliding to Lucifer, eyes shining with unshed tears. “He’ll heal, Chloe. Amenadiel says it might take a while, but there’s very little an angel can’t heal, given time.”

“Where is Amenadiel, anyway?” she replied absentmindedly, unable to tear her eyes away from the bed. The urge to crawl in beside him, to hold him, was strong, but the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him any more than he already was.

“Maze is patching him up.”

Chloe turned to her at that, finally taking in the smudges of blood across Linda’s face and hands. She was so desperate to see Lucifer when she arrived that she’d barely noticed anything other than his prone body, a lone white figure on black silk sheets. Sheets that did very little to hide the amount of blood soaking through them.

“He got hurt?” The second the question left her mouth, she realised just how stupid it sounded. Lucifer’s rescuers had headed into Hell expecting to die; it was inevitable that success would come alongside injury. 

Linda didn’t judge though, simply giving her an understanding smile. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a few broken bones; he’ll be back to normal in no time. Lucifer gave him quite a run for his money.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Chloe looked back towards the broken body lying on the bed. “Lucifer… fought him?” she asked, confused. “Why?”

“I think it’s best I let Amenadiel explain.” Linda placed a hand on Chloe’s arm, giving it a gentle tug. “Come on, let’s get you a drink. Lucifer won’t be waking up anytime soon.”

The penthouse was darker than she remembered it, without the fires that burned almost constantly to keep the shadows at bay. She had visited once and only once since Lucifer left, and even that was soley due to Maze’s insistence. Together they recreated a memory from her past that she hoped never to see again, as they covered the furniture in white cotton sheets, and packed away his most prized possessions.

 _“Someone will be by to pick them up tomorrow. He has storage for that kind of thing, between visits. I… I’m not sure what to tell them to do with it now.”_

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Maze was just as lost without him as she was, although she would never admit it. After all, he’d left her behind too.

Linda tried to encourage Chloe to come back, to take comfort in what the two of them had shared here. But she couldn’t. The precinct was painful enough, the empty chair beside her desk always within her line of sight, taunting her with its emptiness. To be here, surrounded by reminders of everything that he was, it hurt too much.

Some of the sheets had already been removed, but it was the piano she made a beeline for now, a cloud of dust swirling into the air as she pulled away the cover. She wanted it to be one of the first things he could see when he woke up.

Other than her, that is.

Maze and Amenadiel sat at the bar, the latter’s arm tied up loosely in a makeshift sling. Both were battle worn; Maze’s usual leather attire torn to pieces, the angel's robe damaged beyond repair. He looked weary, but Maze was triumphant, greeting Chloe with a wide grin and bloodstained teeth. “What?” she said, “No ‘congratulations’? No ‘hail the conquering heroes’? You disappoint me, Decker.”

Chloe gave her a weak smile. “Well done, both of you. Thank you for bringing him home to me.”

Now the demon just looked uncomfortable. “It wasn’t _just_ for you,” she said, shifting awkwardly on the seat. After a beat, she slid from the bar stool to the floor, punching Amenadiel—in a way she would probably have considered to be lightly—in the shoulder as she passed. “This idiot wanted him back too.” She paused on her way towards the living area. “And besides, I still owe him an ass kicking for going down there without me in the first place.”

With that, she flopped down onto the sofa, pulling out her blades from who knows where and starting to clean them off against the cushions. Chloe suppressed a smile, imagining Lucifer’s outrage at his Italian leather being treated in such a way. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t wait to hear the sound of him complaining again.

It was funny, the things she didn’t realise she would miss.

“How was it down there?” she asked Amenadiel, who was still mid-wince, rubbing the spot on his shoulder where Maze’s fist had connected.

He sighed as he reached for what looked oddly like a cosmo, pausing for a few seconds before taking a long sip. “Easier than I expected… but not without its difficulties,” he replied, glancing over at the bedroom.

“Linda said the two of you fought.”

He nodded. “Getting into Hell was the easy part. Convincing my brother to leave? That took some… persuasion.”

Something clicked in her head as she put two and two together. Her eyes narrowed. “You did all that?” she asked carefully, thinking of Lucifer’s injuries. She tried to keep her tone neutral, but with the anger welling up inside her, she made a miserable job of it.

“Not all of it,” he said, shaking his head. “Very little, in fact. I am the reason he’s currently unconscious though.” Sorrow coloured his voice. “I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“Not when he had a reason to stay,” Maze said pointedly from behind them, idly spinning one of her knives in her hand. At some point Linda must have sat down beside her, and Chloe watched as she wrapped a hand around Maze’s wrist, stilling her movements.

“Maze—” she said, a warning in her voice, and she got an eye roll in return for her trouble.

“What? It’s not as if he won’t tell her eventually anyway.”

Linda let go, seemingly lost in thought. Then, somewhat reluctantly, she nodded. “You’re right. But we should at least give him the chance to.”

“The chance to tell me what?” Chloe demanded, quite frankly fed up of being left out of the loop at this point. What was the point of being a celestial insider if you weren’t actually let in on anything? “If it’s why Lucifer didn’t want to come back, just say it. I’m a big girl, I can take it. If he still needs to protect us… I’ll understand.”

Understand, just like she did before. After all the crying, screaming, and cursing, aimed at God and every angel she could think of, for the unjustness of it all. And at Lucifer too, for leaving. Leaving just as they were finally, _finally,_ on the same page. Leaving without even giving them a chance to figure out another way for him to stay.

But that was Lucifer. That was the man she loved, someone who always jumped in head first without any thought for himself, especially if it meant saving her from harm. He’d given up his life on Earth for her. Given up a life _with_ her. Her anger hadn't lasted long, leaving her only with a hole in her heart that she knew nobody else could ever fill.

But now he was back, and that life together glimmered in the distance, with only the threat of him having to leave again hanging over their heads.

She heard the clink of glass against the counter as Amenadiel set down his drink. “No, Chloe,” he said, leaning forward to take her hand. “That’s not it. Lucifer, he…” Amenadiel turned his head towards where his brother lay, a smile upon his face could only be described as… _proud._ “I don’t know how he did it, but he made a barrier. Only those with a soul can cross now. The demons are trapped down there, Father willing, forever. You’re safe. We all are, thanks to him.”

“Then why…” she swallowed heavily, a tight knot in her chest she couldn’t seem to shift. She should be relieved beyond belief, grateful for the knowledge that everyone she knew and loved was no longer in danger, but all she could think about was one question… a question she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to. “Then why didn’t he leave? Why didn’t he come home?”

_Why didn’t he come back to me?_

“I don’t know,” Amenadiel said with a shake of his head. “Maybe he needed to make sure it wouldn’t fail…”

The sound of leather ripping cut into the air. “Or maybe,” Maze interjected, as she idly dragged the tip of her blade along the seat cushion, “he just got careless, and the barrier was the last straw.”

“You mean they captured him before he could escape.” The demon nodded, before burying her knife hilt deep. A sudden thought occurred to Chloe. “But if demons couldn’t get through, then how…?”

Linda coughed, her eyes widening and head shaking slightly as Amenadiel said hurriedly, “We think Lucifer must have made an exception for Maze somehow.”

Maze glowered, and snatched her blade back out of the sofa. “Exactly. It _has_ to be that. And it’s certainly nothing to do with having a _soul_ ,” she snapped, directing that last part at Linda as she stood. With a huff, she pushed past Amenadiel to snatch up a bottle of vodka from the bar, one of the few remaining that she hadn’t pilfered already, before promptly storming off into Lucifer’s bedroom.

Amenadiel shrugged. “Linda has a theory.” 

Though her interest was peaked, whatever that theory was, Chloe really didn’t want to get into it at the moment. Not when there were more important things to deal with. “How long before he wakes, do you think?” she asked, steering the conversation back to Lucifer.

The distant cry of a child echoed from one of the back rooms of the penthouse. Linda stood, picking up a nearby bag and hoisting it over her shoulder. “You two talk,” she said, “I’ll go and check on him.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” Amenadiel replied, and Linda smiled fondly at him. Chloe’s heart warmed; it had taken a while for the two of them to come back together after all that had happened, but despite their issues, they were just as much of a co-parenting team now as she and Dan were. 

“Things seem to be going well,” she said lightly, noting that the look on the angel’s face as he watched Linda leave betrayed an affection far deeper than the friendship they had settled into. Of course, much like the other celestial in the room, he took completely the wrong meaning from her words.

“They are,” he said with a grin. “He’s a good boy. A strong boy. Just like his uncle.” At the mention of his brother, he stood, silently motioning for Chloe to follow him as he walked over to the bedroom. Lucifer hadn’t moved since she arrived, but the rise and fall of his chest was comforting. He wasn’t the only one asleep either, exhaustion clearly having overtaken Maze as soon she sat down again, the still full bottle of vodka resting precariously in her hand.

As quietly as she could, Chloe tiptoed across the room to Maze's chair, gently removing the bottle and placing it safely on the floor. It was a testament to just how drained she was that the demon only stirred slightly, grumbling in her sleep. Usually Maze would complain about being woken up if Chloe so much as breathed too loudly in the vicinity of her room. She’d once explained to her that sleep was hard to come by in Hell; training yourself to wake at the slightest hint of attack was essential. Sleep like the dead, and you soon would be. It was as simple as that.

Lucifer wasn’t like that though, not in Chloe’s experience, not anymore at least. Like most things, sleep was something he luxuriated in. Making up for lost time, she could only assume. Right now though, she would give anything for him to wake up. 

Amenadiel approached the bed, softly laying a hand on his brother’s forehead. “He’ll be asleep for another day, two at most,” he said. “With you here, it should be easier to manage the pain. Linda tells me he’s more susceptible to narcotics with you around.”

A situation she remained shocked to this day he hadn’t taken more advantage of. But still, there was just one problem with that… “I can’t stay, Amenadiel, as much as I want to. Dan is dropping Trixie off tonight.” Then, an idea hit her. “Do you think… could he come home with me? Can we move him?”

Amenadiel frowned, but something must have shown on her face, for after a long hard look at Lucifer, he nodded. “I can’t see why not. A change in location shouldn’t do him any harm; he’s in better shape than when I carried him here.”

“Like a baby,” Maze mumbled, shifting in her chair. “Should’ve taken a photo.” Slowly, she opened one eye to glare at them. “Can you guys shut the hell up? Demon tryin’ to sleep over here.”

Amenadiel chuckled to himself, and the two of them made their way back into the living room as silently as they could, leaving both the demon and Devil to their slumber. Linda returned at the same time, a wide awake Charlie bouncing in her arms. “Everything okay?” she asked, shifting the squirming toddler from side to side as he giggled and reached for his daddy.

“As okay as it can be,” Chloe answered, “given the circumstances.” She smiled at the sight of Amenadiel lifting his son, the once solemn warrior an entirely different man to the one she had first been introduced to. He grinned as he spun the laughing child in the air, an imitation of the wings he might one day have. “I need to head home soon, but—”

“I’ll fly Lucifer over as soon as we’re finished up here,” Amenadiel finished for her, hoisting Charlie up and around his shoulders. 

Chloe cast one last longing look towards the bed before picking up her bag. _Soon,_ she consoled herself. _Soon, he’ll be home, and we can move forward. Together._

“I’ll look after him,” she promised, both to herself and to Amenadiel. Linda came to stand beside him, the two of them the perfect symbol of the mismatched family they had managed to become during Lucifer’s absence.

“We know you will,” Linda said with a smile. “Just let me know when he’s up for visitors, and I’ll be right over.” Chloe nodded, and turned to head towards the elevator. Before she could take another step though, Linda caught her by the arm, her expression serious. “At any time, okay? You can call me if you need me.”

If _he_ needs me. The subtext was clear. Because he would need her, they both knew that. The Devil that had left Los Angeles was a very different Devil to the one who had previously ruled Hell, and she hated to think what had happened to the Lucifer she knew down there. But no matter what, she was determined to be there for him.

They all were.

…

In the end, it was three days before Lucifer woke up completely. His injuries were healing faster than those of a human, it was true, but the amount of medication needed to keep his pain at a manageable level meant that on the rare occasion he did open his eyes, he was far from lucid.

The morning of the third day though? That was different. She opened her eyes to find deep brown ones staring back into her own, clear and focused. The apartment was quiet, so quiet that all she could hear was the sound of his heartbeat, and the way his breath hitched in his lungs when she smiled up at him. He cupped her face, and she stroked his cheek in return, marvelling at the way he trembled under her fingertips.

“Hello stranger,” she said softly, before pressing forward, capturing his lips with her own. For a second, she wondered if it was the right decision to make, but before she could move away, he returned the kiss with gusto, hungrily claiming what they had both been afraid to take for so long. It was only when he shuddered with pain rather than pleasure that they began to slow, eventually coming to a stop. But even then they remained only a hair’s breadth apart, neither willing to let the other go quite yet.

She wasn’t sure she would ever let him go again.

“Lucifer,” she sighed, gently guiding his forehead down to hers. “You’re here. You’re home. You’re safe.”

He melted into her, one hand buried in her hair, the other still holding the side of her face. When he pulled her closer, she felt him smile against the side of her neck. His lips grazed her ear, and for a moment, everything was perfect as the voice she had so longed to hear whispered…

_“Oh, how I have missed you.”_


	2. Where You Go, I Will Follow

Those first few days were full of questions and confusion, for both of them. Initially, he seemed less shocked about being back on Earth than he was about not being in his penthouse, something she couldn't quite understand. Once they had finally parted long enough to allow it, he looked around her room with bewilderment. _"It's different..."_

That was strange enough by itself; Lucifer had been in her bedroom before—without her permission, naturally—but as far as she was aware, nothing had changed since then. Funnily enough, redecorating her own space didn't even come close to making her overflowing list of priorities, especially not with a daughter whose tastes changed so often, she might as well have taken up a part time career as an interior designer.

But the way he said it… it was almost in awe, as though he couldn't believe it. As if he never thought he would be there. As if they hadn't always been heading there from the very beginning.

Naturally, her first instinct after that was to check if he would prefer to be in the penthouse, despite how much she hated the idea of him leaving her already. It made sense though, that after being in Hell all this time, he would prefer to be back in the lap of luxury, not in the somewhat lumpy bed she had reluctantly been forced to salvage from her mother's house. Rent wasn't cheap here, even with Maze's help, and now that her roommate was gone, a mattress to Lucifer's standards would just have to wait.

So when he refused, it was a shock, to say the least. It wasn't just a preference either, nor a request; in fact he appeared horrified at the very thought of it. It was a reaction that had yet to change as well, with her eventually having to resort to asking Amenadiel to drop off some clothing for him when he had the time. Inevitably, Lucifer whined about his selections— _"In what universe does this shirt go with THAT jacket, Detective?"_ —but considering he disappeared into the shower the minute his brother arrived, Chloe figured he had no right to complain. If he wasn't willing to go himself, and he refused to speak to Amenadiel and tell him what exactly it was that he wanted, then the Devil would just have to slum it for a while.

As much as one _could_ slum it in Armani, that is.

He seemed just as surprised to see Trixie that first morning, as uncomfortable around her as he had ever been, if not more so. Chloe had warned her daughter in advance not to ambush him, and judging by his adverse reaction to her presence, it was a good idea. There would be plenty of time for her monkey to give him all the hugs she had missed out on later. Or... at least she hoped there would.

 _It's just because he's been away,_ she told herself. _It took time for him to get used to her before, it won't be long until he's back there again._

She had to believe that. Trixie deserved for her mother to have a partner who loved her. And Lucifer had. Even if he himself hadn't realised, anyone watching the two of them together could have seen it.

_I would do anything to protect that little urchin._

Of course, no matter what his feelings about her daughter were, he still had his grumbles. The first of which was, _"I suppose the spawn is here to torture me with endless games of Monopoly?"_ Thankfully, it was a complaint they both knew he didn't actually mean. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately from his point of view, the answer was no. It was the school holidays, and Trixie was about to leave with Dan to visit her grandparents for a couple of weeks.

Which, Chloe had to admit, did have its upsides.

Two whole weeks off work with Lucifer. Alone. The mere thought of it had her cheeks flaring so brightly that Trixie ended up checking multiple times before leaving if she was feeling okay.

She was. And judging by the smirk on Lucifer's face every time it happened, she would soon be feeling more than okay.

She could hardly wait.

And yet, when it finally happened, their first time together wasn't anything like she had imagined it would be. And despite what she may have claimed to anybody else—especially to Ella—she had imagined it. _A lot._

From a long, slow evening in front of the fireplace, with hours spent discovering each other in the firelight, to a passionate liaison during a case, adrenaline taking over as the tension that had always lingered between them finally snapped.

She thought she knew what to expect. That he would be skilled was without question. She'd heard the evidence first-hand, after all. But with her… he always seemed so different. Tentative. Careful. His kiss left her feeling as though she were made of glass, and he was afraid his mere touch might shatter her.

So experienced? Yes. But confident? No. She was his kryptonite, the one human being on this planet with whom he could never know their true desires. That was bound to throw a Devil off his game. And so when the time came, she waited. Waited for his hesitation, for that nervous enquiry of if she was sure she wanted to do this.

But it never came. There was no uncertainty on his part, in fact, he was sure of himself in ways she could never have anticipated. His touch was firm but loving, possessive without being overbearing. He claimed her and let her claim him in return, and it was more than she could have ever dreamed it would be.

He made love to her as though he had done so a thousand times before, and would do so a thousand times again.

And she couldn't get enough of it.

...

_"Oh, how I have missed you."_

Her eyes opened to the feel of strong arms wrapped around her body, and lips against her forehead. Lucifer held her so close that it was quite obvious he had no intention of letting her leave this bed any time soon.

But he would have to, for today was the day things would finally get back to normal. And more importantly, the day their future life together would begin, both partners in work and at home. She couldn't wait. They'd waited far too long already.

"So you keep telling me," she said with a laugh, swatting ineffectually at his arm. He merely grinned at her, tugging her to him even tighter. The warmth of his skin sank into her own, and as her hand lazily explored the hard planes of his chest, it wasn't long until she felt something else hard nudging against her. She bit her lip reflexively in anticipation, but forced herself to dodge his attempt at a kiss, taking the opportunity to peer over his shoulder at the alarm clock.

_Damn it._

Having now had the pleasure of many mornings in bed with Lucifer, she knew there wasn't enough time by far. It would take hours upon hours… she clenched her thighs together at just the thought of it. But no. As much as her libido might argue with her—an argument it had won repeatedly as of late—there were more important things to do today. Starting with removing her overly keen lover's mouth from her neck.

"Lucifer," she said, silently cursing herself when it came out more like a moan than the admonishment she meant it to be. She swallowed heavily as his teeth grazed her skin. Summoning her resolve, she pushed herself as far away from him as she could. Which, thanks to the ironclad grip he still had on her, wasn't far at all. "Come on, we have to get to work."

This time it was him who drew back. "We do?" he said, a look of puzzlement crossing his face. It was adorable really, how the mixture of drowsiness and arousal had clearly affected his higher brain functions.

"Of course we do," she replied, trying her best not to start laughing again at the way he immediately pouted. "It's been two weeks, I can't stay home forever. Besides, I thought you wanted to go back?"

He frowned, and she suddenly wondered if she'd got it wrong. This _was_ what he wanted, wasn't it? He certainly hadn't had any objections the other day when she brought it up. There were no physical reasons holding him back either; granted, his insistence on not leaving her side had slowed down his healing process, but as he had enthusiastically demonstrated multiple times now, he was no longer suffering from any of his previous injuries. "Unless… you're not ready?" she said cautiously, moving further away to her own side of the bed. "Or—Or you don't want to?"

There was a pause, and then he slowly shook his head. "No… no, it's not that in the slightest. I just—I didn't think it was possible."

She held back a laugh; as if those kind of rules ever applied to him. Even if her new boss did object, which she didn't, Lucifer would have her wrapped around his finger in under a minute. As well he knew. There was no need to boost his ego by telling him that though.

"It's fine. The lieutenant is more than aware of our solve rate together. She practically jumped for joy when I told her you were back in town and wanted to start consulting again."

He nodded, but from the expression on his face, he hadn't actually taken in a word she'd just said. She stroked a hand down the side of his arm. "Hey, if you're not okay with this…"

His finger on her lips stopped her in her tracks. "I am. Very much so," he said seriously, far more alert now. "I… I just wasn't expecting things to change so soon, that's all." He sat up, dragging his hand through his hair. Inwardly, she smiled at the sight. With curls like those, the Devil had excellent bedhead. Something she should have known to expect really. When _didn't_ he look good?

"You're certainly keeping me on my toes," he commented, and while it seemed an odd thing to say, she couldn't help but tease him over the words.

"Well, someone has to," she said with a smile, the sheet still wrapped firmly around her as she slid out of bed, a shield from the cool morning air while she journeyed to the shower. "You've made it quite clear what an old man you are," she tossed back over her shoulder. "I'm surprised you can keep up with me at all."

Abruptly, her progress halted as the sheet was yanked away from her, and she fell with a laughing shriek back onto the bed. "I'll show you just what this old Devil can do," Lucifer growled, pinning her beneath his long, lean body. As she looked up at him, breathless and grinning, love washed over her in such a wave that all thoughts of getting ready for the day were forgotten.

All she could think was how she never wanted to lose him again.

How she wanted to spend the rest of her life by his side, in this bed, in his arms.

"I want every day to be like this," she whispered, a confession she wasn't sure if he was ready to hear.

And for the most infinitesimal of moments, she could have sworn he looked nothing short of grief-stricken. But then he kissed her, and when he pulled away again, there was only love and devotion in his eyes.

"Me too," he said, resting his forehead against her own. "Me too."

...

The journey to the crime scene that day was made in near silence. Her attempts at conversation were met with one word answers, to the point where she eventually gave up, switching on the radio and trying to concentrate on the details of the case they knew so far. But Lucifer remained quiet and still, and as it turns out, he was actually more distracting that way than he had ever been when he just couldn't seem to shut up for more than one minute.

It was on her fifteenth glance away from the road towards him that she finally saw it, that look of longing on his face as he watched the world fly past their window. The sights and sounds of the city had given way to beaches and mountains, and Lucifer looked like a man stranded in the desert, seeing water for the first time. "You missed LA, huh?" she said, reaching across to rest her hand on his leg. He startled, and she went to withdraw, but he caught her hand midway, gently entangling his fingers with hers.

"I forgot how beautiful the sunlight is," he said, still unable to tear his eyes away from the scenery.

"They don't have sunlight in Hell?"

Silently, she cursed herself. Not only was it a stupid question, but she'd done exactly what she had been trying her best not to do, which was ask about his time there. Linda recommended that she wait until he brought the subject up himself, to give him time until he was ready to talk about it. And here she was, talking about it already, when he hadn't even settled back into daily life on Earth yet.

Still, it was too late now.

"In a fashion," he said in reply, neither a true answer nor an explanation. After a few more seconds of silence though, he spoke again. "In Hell itself, there is no light. No true light, anyway. But the cells… they show you memories. There can be sunlight there." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, before reaching out to turn the volume up on the radio. It was loud enough that she almost didn't hear what he said next. Almost.

_"My memories had no sunlight."_

...

By the time they pulled up, Lucifer seemed to have relaxed a little. He'd opened a window not long after their conversation ended, and every time she looked over at him after that, he was lying back in his seat, eyes closed as he enjoyed the sensation of the wind flowing over his face with a soft smile. It made her wonder what else he'd been deprived of during his absence. Sunlight, fresh air… what about food, water?

Suddenly, his determination to enjoy the finer things in life, and to make the most of every moment, made a lot more sense.

She was so lost in thought that it wasn't until she heard the sound of her car door opening that she realised Lucifer had already exited. Her taking his hand as she got out was as automatic as him offering it in the first place. Some things never changed, and the fact that the Devil was a gentleman was definitely one of them.

This particular Devil though, was looking a little nervous.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" she asked, capturing his other hand with her free one.

He looked puzzled. "It is what you wish, is it not?"

She gave both his hands a squeeze, trying her best not to sigh. To think that at one time, she'd considered this man to be one of the most self-involved people she had even known, always putting his own needs before anyone else's. And yet here he was, prioritising her wants yet again.

_How often had anyone asked him what he desired?_

"What about you, though?" she said, looking up at him with scrutiny, trying to find any hint that he was falling back into his usual tactic of not lying, while at the same time avoiding telling her the actual truth. "What do you want?"

His eyes flickered down to where their hands were joined, before rising back up to meet hers. "I want to be with you," he said simply, and she knew without a doubt that he meant it.

"Well then," she said with a reassuring smile, "we'd better get started."

...

_"LUCIFER!"_

The excited squeal of her partner's name came from the other side of the empty warehouse before Chloe even managed to duck under the tape. Tape which was now fluttering in the air, the sound of Ella's voice having made Lucifer jump so hard whilst holding it that he'd snapped the damn thing in two. She was just about to ask him if he was alright, when her partner found himself with an armful of forensic scientist, their friend barrelling into him at such a pace that she nearly knocked him clean off his feet.

Lucifer froze, as expected, but this time, it was something more. He had the look of a frightened wild animal, poised to defend itself in any way it could. And for one terrible, awful moment, it seemed like he was about to do just that, his body tensing in preparation to throw Ella off him as he would any attacker. Except this was Lucifer, and Chloe knew exactly what that would mean.

Ella hadn't noticed a thing, still happily clinging to her favourite consultant, apparently trying to make up for all the hugs she'd been unable to give him while he was away in one big go. Chloe took a step forward, a warning she hoped she wouldn't need on her lips. Lucifer's head snapped towards her at the sound, eyes flashing. His hands rose to grip Ella's arms, and Chloe panicked. _No,_ she mouthed, head shaking rapidly. To her horror, his face flickered, too brief for anyone else to have seen it, and on instinct, she felt her hand drift towards her gun. Lucifer's eyes followed the movement, and just like that, the fire in his eyes died, drowning under what looked like a sea of despair.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and thankfully, nobody outside of the two of them had realised just how close they'd been to seeing the Devil lose the tenuous grip he held over his darker side.

"Buddy, I _missed_ you!" Ella exclaimed, finally relinquishing her grip. Lucifer's hands flexed, and he quickly shoved them back in his pockets. "Where've you been, huh? You didn't call, you didn't write…" Playfully, she made to punch him on the shoulder, but all she met was empty air, Lucifer suddenly standing far out of reach. Chloe hadn't even seen him move.

Ella's eyes widened, but before she could say anything, Chloe stepped forward. "Like I said, Lucifer's been somewhere… well, communication isn't easy there, put it that way."

Her friend nodded. "Right," she said, raising her hands in the air to emphasise her point with finger quotes. "Down south."

Lucifer coughed slightly, adjusting his cufflinks. "Quite. And… well, I must confess I missed you too, Miss Lopez. In fact, I rather thought I might never see you again."

A wide smile broke out over Ella's face. "Don't be crazy, dude! If you'd left it much longer to come back, I was gonna come find you anyway. Not that I ever thought I'd really need to. Can't stay away from this one," she said, nudging Chloe with her hip, "am I right?"

If Chloe had been into that sort of thing, she might have found the almost identical blush she shared with her partner cute. But she wasn't, and besides, she already had a self-appointed 'Number One Deckerstar Fan' right here to do that for her.

"Aww, you guys are _adorable!_ So, whatcha been up to while Chloe's been off work, huh? Have fun… catching up?" Ella waggled her eyebrows dramatically, and the haunted look still lingering on Lucifer's face was quickly replaced with a cheshire cat grin.

"Well, Miss Lopez, the Detective and I—"

"Need to get back to work," Chloe interjected, grabbing her partner by the arm. "We'll join you in a minute, Ella," she said, before dragging him Lucifer to the side of the warehouse, and behind one of the abandoned storage containers where they couldn't be heard. 

Once they were alone, she released him, her mind racing. Lucifer, however, seemed to be back to himself again, brushing away what she was sure was imaginary lint from his jacket before straightening it. "My, my, Detective," he said, eyes twinkling. "One mention of our activities and you're pulling me away for a good old fashioned ravishing. Not that I'm complaining…"

"What _was_ that?" she hissed, not even willing to entertain him for a second.

His eyes fell to the floor, suitably chastised. "My apologies. I should have known you wouldn't want me to discuss—"

"This isn't about discussions, Lucifer." She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Of course he would finally recognise when he was doing something she didn't want him to do, at a time when that wasn't even really the problem. "Although you're right, I would rather you keep our private life out of the workplace. But that's not what I'm talking about."

She moved closer, placing her hand on his arm again. "Back there, with Ella, what happened? You looked—You looked so—" He continued to avoid her gaze, and she had to ask, she _had_ to, even if it was the last thing she wanted to do. Her voice became hushed. _"You looked like you were going to hurt her."_

Silence.

He didn't look up, and for a moment, she got the distinct impression he was focusing not on her, but on her weapon. Then he turned away towards the crime scene, where she could see Ella snapping photographs in the distance. "I thought…" he started hesitantly, his hands fisting by his sides. "I thought maybe it was going to be her this time… not you… and I…"

Something seemed to occur to him then, and he snapped back around, urgently taking her by the shoulders. "You know I'd never hurt _you,_ don't you, Chloe?"

Before she had a chance to speak though, he continued. "I'm sorry. It's just, everything is so different… it keeps moving so fast… and—" It was back, that fear in his eyes, and all she wanted to do was chase it away. "And maybe it would have been better," he said with a sigh, an admission that did nothing but confuse her further.

"Better…? Better if you _hurt_ her? Lucifer, you're making no sense."

He shook his head. "I don't expect you to understand. How could you? You're not even—" He cut off, choking on his own words, and suddenly she couldn't hold back any longer, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him to her as tightly as she could.

"Hey, it's okay… It's okay. You didn't actually do anything, and you won't do it again, right?" She felt him shake his head again against her shoulder.

"I was a fool to think things might have changed that much," he mumbled into her hair. "I'm sorry."

"No, _I'm_ the one who should be sorry," she said, pulling back and holding his face in her hands. "I thought you were ready for this, and you're obviously not." Hoping no one was watching, she stretched up to give him a quick kiss, then reached down for her phone, intent on calling him a cab home. She couldn't help but smile a little at that. They hadn't talked about it, but his continued refusal to go back to the penthouse told her everything she needed to know. _Home_. They had a home together now, a life.

The second her hand left his face though, he stiffened, and before she knew what was happening, he'd captured her wrist, catching it before she could even reach her pocket. Her holster grazed her fingers as he jerked her arm away. "Wha—" she started, but immediately stopped when she saw the panicked look on his face.

"Please don't," he stuttered out. "I don't want this day to end. Not yet. _Please."_

The pressure around her wrist made her wince, and he let go instantly, backing away from her. She could see the litany of apologies upon his lips, but that's not what came out. "I'll behave. I promise. Just… let me stay a little longer."

Indecision warred within her. On the one hand, he clearly wasn't in the right state of mind to be here. But on the other, she could already see the hurt she would cause if she sent him away.

He'd been hurt enough lately.

"Okay," she said, and he visibly relaxed, although the look he gave her was still wary. "You can stay. Just… take it easy?" She took a quick look around the mostly vacant warehouse. "It doesn't look like there's going to be much we can do here anyway."

He nodded, and gestured for her to lead the way. When she looked back, he wasn't following on her heels as usual, but hanging a good six feet behind. Internally, she sighed. When she said to take it easy… she hadn't meant for him to do that by staying away from her. Unless she was the one making this hard for him in the first place?

 _No,_ she thought, with a slight shake of her head. She was overthinking it. All she needed to do was listen to Linda and give him time. With enough space, he would get back into the swing of things, and then everything would fall back into place again.

She was sure of it.

...

For the rest of the morning, Lucifer was quiet. He hovered around the edges of the scene, not hindering anyone, but not exactly being helpful either. All contact was studiously avoided in preference of watching her while she worked, his eyes never straying far from where she stood. It was almost as if, without her near, he'd just... stopped, and now he was merely waiting for her return in order to bring him back to life again.

She didn't like it. Psychology wasn't exactly her strong suit, but even she knew that type of codependency wasn't healthy. Maybe his behaviour shouldn't have surprised her. Apart from a brief few hours with Trixie, Lucifer hadn't actually interacted with anyone other than herself after his return. He had made it quite clear that his previous support system was completely unwelcome. His brother, Maze, even Linda had been turned away at the door. The latter he had refused to see point blank, insisting that he was no longer a patient, and that therapy was a complete waste of time right now.

She couldn't force him to go, but she desperately wished that he would. While she didn't know all the details yet, Hell was, well, _Hell_ , and this time, he'd been there alone. Surely he needed to talk to someone about it. Someone more equipped to help him than her.

They'd just spent two weeks wrapped up in each other in their own little world; she hadn't expected a consequence of that to be that she would _become_ his world.

Perhaps being back at work would help, once he had time to adjust. She knew Lucifer; whether he wanted it or not, people were drawn to him like moths to a flame, and eventually, he would put on a show for them. Even now, Ella was trying to draw him into conversation every chance she got, and as Chloe well knew, nobody could resist her for long.

She had a bright pink wig at home to prove it.

Yes, that was it. A few more hours around other people and he would be fine, back to the Lucifer everyone at the precinct knew and loved. He had been greatly missed while he was away, and it wasn't until he was gone that she had realised quite how much of her camaraderie with other officers, especially those she originally didn't know all that well, had come through him.

It was when Ella began relaying her initial findings that she finally felt Lucifer by her side again, listening intently. She kept waiting for him to act inappropriately in some way, to make a comment about the victim's clothing, or joke about his rather bulbous nose. But he didn't. _Behaving_ , her brain reminded her. It was something they were going to have to talk about later, once this was all over. She didn't expect him to 'behave' at crimes scenes any more than he had done in the past, because as much as she may have maligned it out loud, it was often his minor indiscretions that lead to a break in the case.

She still hadn't quite figured out how that worked, if pure blind luck was an angel—or in this case, a Devil—thing, but it was certainly a part of their partnership she'd missed.

Sometimes all a case needed was a bit of luck, and in the LAPD, that was something all too often in short supply.

Regardless, she decided the best thing she could do was carry on as she usually would. It seemed the most logical way to get things back to normal, for both of them. Which meant, for now, shelving her concerns about Lucifer, and concentrating on the case. She would still keep an eye on him, of course, but that fell strictly into the realm of her standard work day. It was how she had managed to keep her job these last four years, after all.

That and some _very_ creative paperwork.

So when Ella started to pack up her equipment, she and Lucifer prepared to move on to the next stage of the investigation. Witnesses to be interviewed at the scene itself were few and far between, and none were of any real help. The security guard for the warehouse hadn't been on duty at the estimated time of death, and the people who had discovered the body—an assessor and her assistant—were only there to value the building after Generis Imports, the business that operated it, recently went under.

The guard was at least able to confirm the deceased's identity as Jacob Dealen, former owner of Generis. So far though, other than cause of death and that the culprit was probably male, that was all the information they had. The pair had never met, and if not for boredom driving him to flick through an old company brochure that had been left in the break room, the guard wouldn't have recognised him at all.

That left them with no other choice but to head back to the station and start one of the least fun parts of the process; research. If this were any other day she might have asked if Lucifer wanted to join her later, once they had some solid leads to follow up on, but going by his behaviour earlier and how he currently didn't seem to want to be more than a foot away from her, she already knew what his answer would be.

So instead, she reached back to take his hand, revelling in the way his face lit up as he gave her his first genuine smile since they left the apartment. "C'mon," she said, tugging him gently towards the exit. "Let's go catch this guy, partner."

His smile turned into a grin, and she saw him not so subtly look around, checking to see if anyone was seeing this. Despite Ella knowing, the change in their relationship still felt like somewhat of a secret, and she felt warmth blossom inside her chest at the sight of him so obviously keen to shout it from the rooftops. Instead of that though, he moved to stand beside her with one long stride, his hand leaving hers to rest at the small of her back. "Whatever you say, _partner,"_ he whispered into her ear, the way the deep timbre of his voice added emphasis on the double meaning of that last word sending a shiver down her spine.

This was it now, she thought, as they made their way to the car. The two of them, together, taking on the injustices of the world. Her Devil. His Detective. This was the way things were meant to be.

Everything was going to be okay.


	3. When You Hurt, I Feel Pain

Everything wasn't okay.

The murder itself, well, that turned out to be an easy solve. Not the most exciting case in the world, but maybe that was exactly what they needed for their first day back on the job. She wasn't beyond admitting that she enjoyed the thrill of the chase—they both did—but just a couple of hours spent pouring over records proved draining enough, without adding complications into the mix.

Further examination of the scene eventually led to the discovery of the murder weapon; a thick metal plaque sporting the logo for Generis that had once been fixed outside of the entrance to the building. Whoever wiped it down did a poor job of it, the corner of the sign still clearly coated in the victim's blood. Ella was hopeful she could pull fingerprints off it. With the dismantling of the operation inside the warehouse, it was entirely possible the plaque was nothing more than a weapon of convenience, but Chloe's gut told her otherwise. This was personal, possibly even premeditated.

Logically, that line of thinking pushed them in the direction of looking into Jacob's partners in Generis; his brother, Elliot Dealen, and a man by the name of Warren Grenan. Mr Grenan in particular caught their eye. Until recently, he'd been living the American dream. Married, two kids, big house, co-owner of a successful company. Jacob and Elliot were both college buddies of his, and the trio set up shop together shortly after graduating. Social media showed the partners travelling far and wide as they grew their business, spending their weekends partying and hitting up casinos.

"And that's where it all fell apart," the former Mrs Grenan told them during her interview. According to her statement, things began to spiral when Warren started to take the gambling a little too seriously. "It was small at first. He'd tell me a deal had fallen through, when in reality his share of the money went to the blackjack table. But then profits started vanishing, inventory went missing… by the time anyone noticed just how bad it was, it was too late. Jacob and Elliot, they tried to sell what they could, but there was just no saving the business. We lost the house, the cars… when I found out the kid's college funds were gone too, it was the last straw. Warren, he—he was never the same after I left."

Jacob was killed in the warehouse just days after the partners had finally given up and declared bankruptcy. A few more phone calls, and the rest of the picture quickly fell into place. Generis was in serious debt when the company folded. Warren hadn't just drained his personal accounts; he'd taken whatever he could from the business too. It was no wonder they weren't able to recover from it.

Fingerprints from the murder weapon confirmed their theory. Unfortunately though, Warren had disappeared from the public eye at around the same time Jacob had. Similarly, Elliot, who was hosting a launch party for his new venture at the time of the murder, hadn't been heard from since that night. A trace on Warren's phone came up empty, but Elliot's placed him at the outskirts of Downtown, in a building that Ella quickly identified as Generis' former office space.

A space that would have been cleared out by now, leaving no real reason for Elliot to be there. Which meant there was either something hidden in the building he was attempting to retrieve, or he wasn't there of his own free will. Whatever the reason, it was clear they needed to look into it.

And fast.

…

There were no lights on in the office building when they arrived, the car park mostly abandoned, with the sole exception of a sedan that was confirmed as belonging to their suspect. Attached to the building's exterior was a 'To Let' sign; unlike the warehouse, Generis had declined to purchase the office within which they met their clients.

"No sign of life," Chloe observed as they approached. Lucifer trailed behind her, the crunch of gravel under his shoes the only sound in the darkness. He'd been quiet again on the way over, more so than in the afternoon where he had thrown himself into the investigate legwork with what might have even be mistaken for enthusiasm, if she hadn't known him far better than that. Unfortunately, the uncomfortable sensation in the pit of her stomach told her it was just another step in his efforts to make sure she wouldn't send him away.

After a few seconds, no doubt realising he hadn't responded in a timely manner, he hummed non-committedly. "Easier to kill someone in the dark," he said quietly, "when you don't have to look someone you once loved in the eyes."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. He sounded like he spoke from experience… and that was something she really, _really_ didn't want to have to think about. Maybe he was just referring to something he came across in Hell though. Yes, that must be it.

She certainly wasn't going to ask him to find out for sure.

When they reached the entrance, she paused, knowing what would happen next. Long gone were the days of expecting Lucifer to wait until they had reasonable grounds to enter a property, never mind an actual search warrant. It hadn't worked back when she didn't know he was the Devil; it certainly wasn't going to work now. And, as much as she hated to admit it, one of the things she had realised while he was gone was just how much she had started to rely on the extra assistance his abilities provided. Granted, she still solved plenty of cases without him, but there was no denying that something as simple as a locked door no longer being an obstacle… well, it certainly made life easier.

_I need the eggs._

Looking back, she didn't much like the Chloe that could have said such a thing. What must that have sounded like to Lucifer? She could lie to herself, and say that she meant she trusted him and valued their partnership more than whatever he really was... but she had already proven otherwise. No, she knew exactly what it sounded like. _What you can do for me is more important than knowing the truth about you._

Because it was a truth she hadn't _wanted_ to know.

Of course, it didn't change the fact it was a truth he should have shown her.

She took a deep breath, trying to shake herself out of it, as Lucifer's hand wrapped around the door handle. This wasn't the time. It was all in the past, and right now, she needed to stay on track. Besides, it all worked out in the end, didn't it? If 'worked out' included being separated from the man you loved while he took up a mantle he hated once more in order to protect you. Something he wouldn't have even had to do had she not set the wheels in motion in the first place.

"Detective?" Lucifer said questioningly, the lock clicking open underneath his grip.

_Head in the game, Decker._

Of course, there was one thing she could do, now that she knew exactly what the eggs _were_ that she needed so badly. Something she wished she'd done in the past far more often. Before he could remove his hand, she slid hers over the top of it, holding him in place until he looked down at her, the same curiousness in his eyes as in his voice. "Thank you," she whispered.

For a second, he looked confused, but then a small, soft smile graced the corners of his lips. "You're very welcome, Detective."

She returned his smile for a moment, before giving him a single nod. As silently as possible, he opened the door for her to step through.

…

The large reception was empty apart from one lone desk at the back, the only hint that there had once been a bustling enterprise here. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine plush couches lining the space, expensive sculptures and paintings decorating the walls, a display of wealth to impress potential customers. All gone now, leaving only the bare expanse of the room, its size no doubt meant to give the impression of an operation far larger than it actually was. Appearances were everything in the City of Angels, after all, especially when it came to dealing with the wealthy.

The door next to the reception desk was slightly ajar. Lucifer turned his head sharply towards it, and a second later, a muffled thump came from somewhere beyond. They swiftly positioned themselves either side of the door, and she prayed—although not literally—that there were windows on the other side. She was operating by moonlight here, which wasn't helpful in a partnership where you were both the only one with a gun, _and_ the only person without supernatural eyesight.

A second, louder thump echoed into the air, and swiftly they moved through the door in conjunction, a dance they had perfected almost from the start. Even back then, they had always worked well together, Lucifer somehow instinctively knowing when she should take the lead, and more importantly, believing in her to do so. An immortal, placing his life in the hands of a human. It was a trust she felt she didn't deserve these days. Then again, he probably felt exactly the same way about the trust she placed in him.

But they both worked hard every day to earn it. And that, perhaps more than anything, was what made them such good partners.

The sex was just a bonus. A really, _really_ good bonus.

The corridor that lay beyond the door was indeed darker, but thanks to the glass panelling that lined the meeting rooms on each side, it wasn't so pitch black as she couldn't see. Unfortunately, while that allowed them to quickly check the first two rooms off as vacant, it also meant they could be seen just as easily, making their chances of getting the drop on anyone unlikely.

Good fortune must have been smiling on them though. When they reached the next room on the right, not only did they find exactly who they were looking for, but Warren's back was turned to them as well. Spotting the gun in his hand, she quickly and quietly sent in the call for backup. Behind Warren's shadowy figure she could just make out Elliot sat on a chair, the same prominent features his deceased brother carried illuminated in the moonlight. His eyes widened when he spotted them, but she shook her head slightly before he could give them away, raising her fingers to her lips as she reached for her holster with her other hand.

Thankfully, Warren was still too distracted to have noticed anything, maniacally waving his weapon in the air as he ranted. The words became clearer as Chloe nudged the door open slightly, stopping Lucifer from advancing any further by placing a hand on his stomach. He halted immediately, then slotted in behind her against the wall while they listened.

"You keep saying you're sorry, but you're _not_ , El! You were going to cut me out! You and your useless brother. I was the one who started this company, and you—you both just tagged along for the ride! And then you betray me like this? Deliberately run _my_ business into the ground, so you can go off and start your own?"

Elliot shifted, but only by a fraction, indicating that he'd been restrained to the chair in some way. "That's not how it went, and you know it," he said, his voice surprisingly steady, given the situation. Chloe stole forward, using the distraction Elliot was providing as cover. "We tried to save Generis, we _did._ But the money… it was just gone. You were out of control, Warren, and you wouldn't listen. To me, to your wife, to _anybody_. And Jacob, he… he had an investor lined up, and I… I just couldn't say no. But I _am_ sorry. Really, I am."

They were both inside the room now, Lucifer silently closing the door behind them. She was just about to make her move when Warren suddenly lunged forward, forcing Elliot's head back with the pressure of the gun against his forehead. Chloe raised her hand instantly, signalling for Lucifer to wait. The last thing they needed to do was to spook this guy right now, not when he was clearly so close to breaking. Her instincts told her he wasn't done yet, and thanks to her partner's support over the years, she now had full confidence in herself when it came to that.

"Couldn't say no, huh? I bet you couldn't." Warren leaned over him, one hand on the back of the chair as he applied even more pressure. The legs underneath wobbled dangerously as it began to tilt backwards. "Always the greedy little weasel, weren't you? Only in it for the money. Boo hoo, poor Elly. Sad little bachelor with his big house and his fancy cars, no wife or kids to call his own. Well, guess what? I had all that, and you and your brother, _you_ _took it from me._ You took it ALL!"

Warren wrenched the gun away with a shout, bringing both hands up to clutch at his head as he spun away. The consequence of which, of course, was that he was immediately faced with the human celestial combo waiting to take him in. "What the—"

"LAPD!" Chloe shouted, raising her weapon. "Hands on your—"

At Lucifer's chortle, she paused, wondering what on earth he could find so amusing right now. He looked pointedly at their suspect, hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels, smirking. _"What?"_ she mouthed silently at him, and he cocked his head towards the scene in front of her. She couldn't understand what he was— _oh._

"I believe the Detective would like your hands to remain where they already are, Mr. Murderer," he said, grinning at her as she rolled her eyes.

At the mention of his crime, Warren's face fell, a mixture of panic and fear setting in. Neither of which were a good combination when someone had a gun in their hand.

"What the _Detective"_ —she shot Lucifer a glare—"would like you to do is put your weapon on the ground, _now._ Slowly."

But Warren was already too far gone. "It—it wasn't my fault," he stammered out. "You have to believe me. It was them! They made me! I didn't… I wouldn't have been anywhere _near_ those card games if it wasn't for them. Please… _please_ … you don't understand…"

There was a change in the air. The shadows in the room seemed to grow just that little bit darker, stretching across the table as if trying to escape through the glass. Lucifer stepped forward, all his mirth vanishing in the blink of an eye as he approached Warren with singular focus. His head tilted to the side as he examined the man, every muscle in his body taut and ready for… ready for what, she didn't know.

But it was nothing good.

"Oh, I _understand,"_ he spat bitterly. "You built an empire, only to abandon it. You wasted your time drinking, partying, and in the end, you lost everything you loved."

"Lucifer…" she breathed, her weapon wavering slightly as her focus slipped. Of course he would find a way to relate this case to himself, didn't he always? But as much as she wanted to contradict him, to reassure him, she couldn't afford to get into that right now. Not when their suspect had yet to give up his gun, not when there were still lives in danger.

"Weapon on the ground, _now_ ," she repeated, already knowing her words were going to fall on deaf ears. "Lucifer, move away."

He took another step forward.

Warren, by this point, had started to edge backwards, his wide eyes never leaving partner's face. Chloe could guess what he saw there. Every sin he had ever committed. Every nightmare that awaited him in death.

Judgement.

"And now, you deserve to be punished for it."

The Devil had no mercy to give, not today.

They had reached the point of no return. Lucifer was oblivious to everything but Warren, to the point where he had managed to completely forget that the man held something perfectly capable of killing him, as long as she was in the room. Managed to forget, or simply didn't care.

She had to stop this, had to force Warren's attention to her somehow, before Lucifer pushed him over the edge. Steadying her weapon, she steeled herself, reciting the words she had spoken repeatedly during a life spent trying right as many wrongs in the world as she could. "Warren Grenan, you are under arrest for the murder of Jacob Dealen. You have the right to remain silent…"

_"Jacob is dead…?"_

Chloe barely heard Elliot's horrified words under the sound of her own. Just like Lucifer, she was so honed in on the potential threat that she'd almost forgotten about the other man in the room. The man who had just this second learned that his brother was dead, and that his friend was the one responsible.

"You KILLED him?!"

Warren's eyes darted between Elliot and Lucifer, unable to decide where the danger was coming from next. Chloe, apparently, was being left out of the equation. As Lucifer continued to advance, she was suddenly right back at the conclusion of their very first case, with him ignoring every word she said in his quest for vengeance, and her paying the price. Just like then, this situation was spinning rapidly out of her control.

"Elliot, wait—"

Everything seem to happen at once. The look on Warren's face turned to one of absolute terror as Lucifer drew near, and this time, Chloe knew _exactly_ what he was seeing. Lucifer reached for Warren's weapon as the man stumbled backwards away from him, the gun in his hand no longer held above his head as he shakily aimed it at the Devil coming for his soul. Having somehow managed to free his hands, Elliot dove forward as soon as his former friend came within reach, arms wrapped around his waist as he tackled the man to the ground, bringing the chair along with him.

And then, there was the gunshot.

Chloe barely had time to think, ' _Not aga—'_ before the bullet hit. The impact flung her against the wall, the double shock to her body knocking the air right out of her. Her cry of agony lodged in her throat, her head lolling forward as she landed with a crash that reverberated inside her skull. The room tilted to one side, and it took her a moment to realise it was her body sliding to the floor, not the other way around.

But she never reached it. Lucifer was there before she could even try to draw breath, his hands gently cradling her head as he guided her slowly to the ground. His mouth was moving, but she couldn't make out the words, not over the ringing in her ears and the shouting coming from the other end of the room. One thing was clear though.

Lucifer was terrified.

She felt her clothes being shifted as he frantically checked her over, looking for the bullet wound. Slowly, sound began to fade back in, and she could hear him desperately muttering, over and over, "No, no, no… not this, anything but this… it should be me, not her… not _her…"_

His entire body sagged with relief when he found she was wearing a vest. _Silly Devil,_ she thought to herself fondly, _always forgetting that at least one of us follows the rules._

Carefully, he bent over her, one hand cupping her face, a thumb softly caressing her skin. _"Chloe,"_ he whispered, and that sense of deja-vu struck her again. She tried to smile, but thanks to the searing pain, it came out more like a grimace.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed past it. "We've got to"—she gasped, and it was a moment before she could speak again, fire and ice burning in her lungs—"stop meeting like this," she finally concluded.

She meant to calm him, to show him that she was okay enough to joke, but it was plainly obvious he found no humour in the situation whatsoever. Not that she could blame him. If their positions were reversed, she wouldn't find it funny either.

Any chance she might have had to comfort him further though, was stolen when the commotion at the back of the room suddenly stopped. She lifted her head just in time to see Warren rising from the ground, Elliot lying unconscious beneath him. He took one panicked look at them before dashing for the door, his feet skidding across the tiles.

They couldn't let him get away.

"Go," Chloe said, pushing at Lucifer's arm. The amount of pain such a simple movement caused stole her breath once more, and she fought against the urge to wince. When he looked at her, his eyes were glowing red, yet he still didn't move. She tried again, but it was no use. He was so frozen in his indecision, it was like trying to push a statue. " _Go,"_ she urged.

"But—"

"Lucifer, I'll be okay, I'm _fine_." She forced the words out, using every ounce of energy she had to concentrate on sounding as normal as she could. It wasn't like she was going to die from this. She hoped. Her training told her it wasn't exactly impossible, but she couldn't let herself think about that right now. Catch the suspect. Save the victim. These were the things that were important. "Don't let him get away."

With one swift nod, Lucifer was gone in a blink. She wondered for a moment whether it was right, to use him as an attack dog like that. Lucifer would call it partnership, she was certain, but that's what it felt like, and it worried her. She had the power of the Devil at her fingertips, and it was more dangerous than a gun could ever be.

Especially if it wasn't handled correctly.

A loud bang echoed along the corridor, the slam of what she assumed was the door to the exit as Lucifer went on the hunt. She took a moment to collect herself, letting the shock wash over her before attempting to right herself. Elliot was still out cold, and she needed to check on him. Hopefully, back up would be here to take over soon. Celestial or no, she didn't like the idea of her partner alone out there.

A few seconds more and she managed to get on her feet, walking shakily over to the unconscious man in the other corner of the room. She leaned heavily on the glass wall as she went, pausing to rest at the end before letting herself sink to her knees. When she saw the gun on the floor, relief flooded through her. Warren hadn't managed to grab his weapon. Without it, unless some—quite possibly literal—miracle were to happen, Lucifer would be safe.

And so would Elliot. His pulse was strong, and apart from some bruising on the side of his head and around his wrists, there were no other injuries that she could see. There was certainly nothing she could do to help either, other than to free his feet from the legs of the chair. How he managed to prevent Warren from fleeing whilst still half incapacitated she had no idea, but she was grateful for it. If not for him, their quarry would have probably been long gone.

The sound of a door opening in the corridor outside caught her attention. For a moment, she thought she must have been hearing things. But then a shadow moved in the hallway, and as he crossed into a patch of moonlight, she saw Warren. Out of the two very human responses to fear, fight-or-flight, he'd chosen a third. _Hide._

Which meant Lucifer was out there on a wild goose chase right now.

She waited for him to walk past, before gathering her strength and unsteadily pushing to her feet again to follow him. Her surroundings spun a little, and she paused, taking as deep a breath as she could to help regain her equilibrium.

And then it happened.

The roar that cut through the air wasn't just terrifying; it reached into the core of her very being, pulling on the threads of her most primal fears. She froze, despite every instinct she had telling her to run, to hide, to fall to her knees and pray that the darkness wouldn't come for her. Even Elliot, his eyes still firmly closed as he lay prostrate upon the floor, whined before turning on his side, bringing his knees up to his chest as he subconsciously tried to make himself as small as he could.

And the worst thing was, it was a sound she had heard before.

A sound that made demons cower. A sound born from every ounce of venom humanity had ever offered the Devil, twisted into self-hatred made manifest. A sound from a man who was already on the edge. An edge she had given him full permission to jump over.

Shoving herself away from the wall, she staggered towards the door. She had to get to Lucifer, before he did something he would regret. Something they would _both_ regret. When she got to the corridor though, it was empty. Was Warren hiding again? And if so, where was the Devil?

She soon had her answer. Glass exploded in her path from the room up ahead, Warren's body smacking into the wall opposite with so much force that she was surprised he didn't crash through that as well. As it was, the pane merely fractured, his dazed and bleeding figure falling to the floor.

For her own part, she didn't fare much better, diving to the ground and shielding herself with her arms as the shards of glass rained down. Thankfully, she was far enough away as very little of it reached her, but even so, she could feel the blood that welled up in the spots unlucky enough to be hit. The pain was sharp but fleeting, and very quickly drowned out again by the persistent ache in her chest, which her felt not unlike having been hit by a sledgehammer.

It was the crunch of glass on the floor that let her know something was happening. She lowered her arms to find Lucifer looking down at her, his eyes blazing. It was impossible not to gasp at the sight of him. He had shown her nothing of his non-human side since his return; neither the Devil nor the angel. But here he was, in his full glory, the monster that monsters feared.

He wasn't a monster though, not to her. He was a man who had tortured himself for nearly the entirety of his existence, and as a result, he had become… this. The scars that covered every inch of his skin were the same kind of emotional scars she carried within her own soul; it was just his nature that allowed them to be seen so easily. It was yet another cruel punishment for someone who had always tried so very hard to hide his feelings from the world.

As he bent down to examine her, she could see both concern and fear in those flame filled irises. His hand reached out to touch her face, until his claws came into view and he snatched it away again. Now that he was closer, she could see just how much worse things had gotten since she last saw him. The injuries he had returned with? They may have healed on his angelic body, but here, the damage they had left behind was plain for all to see. Those gashes and welts, they had become a permanent part of him, as if he thought he deserved the marks they left somehow.

Just as he thought he deserved her terror. That was the fear she could recognise in his eyes; the fear that she would run away again, that their time apart had somehow changed her mind about accepting all of him. She made to touch him, to remind him she wasn't scared, but before she could, she heard a whimper from behind, followed by the sound of feet desperately scrabbling across the floor as Warren made another bid for freedom.

Lucifer's head snapped to the right, and suddenly, it was as though Chloe didn't exist, such was his fury. He growled, the feral sound of a predator tired of chasing his prey. And yet, he stood slowly, confidently, as though there were no doubt in his mind that for Warren, there would be no escape. His wings began to unfurl in the enclosed space, not those divine wings of glowing white feathers she had last seen him with, but bat-like, the leathery skin that covered them ravaged and torn. The sharp tips at each end dragged against the floors and walls, causing a horrible, ear-piercing sound as they left deep gouges in their wake.

"Lucifer—" she whispered, before realising she was going to have to do much more than that if she actually wanted him to listen to her. She scrambled onto her knees, then forced herself to her feet, hand fisted at her chest as she tried to ignore the pain there. "Lucifer, _stop._ "

He didn't even seem to hear her, stalking along the corridor determinedly, blinded in his rage to anything else going on around him. Throwing herself forward, she tried to catch up, to grab him by the arm or possibly even his wing, anything to help snap him out of it.

But he was moving too quickly, and she was still too winded from the blast, her body crying out for her to stop with every breath she took. And she wanted to, she did, but the same strength that made her leave her daughter every day, knowing that might be the day she didn't come back, kept her going. As did Warren's cries.

" _No… no... please… please… I didn't mean it, I didn't… please!"_

She couldn't see him anymore, not behind Lucifer's expansive form, but she heard the door to reception up ahead of them slam shut, and the drag of what she assumed was the desk being shoved up against it. Not that it made a blind bit of difference to the Devil. He continued as if there were nothing in his way at all, the door flying into the opposite wall as he kicked it open. She stumbled after him, still calling his name.

The scene inside the room was something straight out of one of her nightmares, back when she had first learned who Lucifer truly was. He towered over Warren, wings on full display as the human at his feet begged and pleaded, legs flailing uselessly against the carpet as he attempted to push himself further back into a wall that was going nowhere.

Her breath caught as Lucifer crouched down, softly saying something she couldn't hear, but that left Warren screaming. Lucifer fisted both hands in his shirt and rose from the floor with a grace that in no way matched his ruined body, hoisting the human he held into the air as though he weighed nothing at all.

" _YOU HURT HER,"_ he bellowed, and for a moment, she could have sworn the very room shook around them. Warren was without words now, merely thrashing fruitlessly in Lucifer's arms, trapped within the Devil's grasp with no hope of rescue.

Except he did have a hope. And that hope was her.

"Lucifer."

Tentatively, she placed a hand upon his shoulder, feeling even smaller than usual against his mountainous frame. She knew he would never willingly hurt her, but a wild animal was a wild animal, and right now, that's what Lucifer was. His body was literally shaking, and when her skin met his, he flinched away from her. "Lucifer, please stop."

His eyes were crazed, and she could hear the tearing of fabric as his fingers tightened, claws ripping through to the skin below. They had been here before, so many times, and she had always been the balm needed to sooth him. Always, until now. Because something was different.

He didn't even look at her. Instead, he switched positions so fast it was a blur, dropping Warren to the ground and dragging him up again by the scruff of the neck before she even had a chance to say his name again. " _He… hurt… you…"_ he snarled, showing at least that he had heard her this time.

"And I'm _fine_ ," she stressed, trying to hold herself as naturally as she could. One misstep, and she was well aware she could set off a chain of events that neither of them had any chance of recovering from. Personally and professionally. "You don't need to do this."

The hand Lucifer had on Warren's shoulder flexed, and his snivelling stopped for a moment as he moaned in pain. It was enough to draw Lucifer's attention away from her again, bringing the Devil back to the task at hand. He pressed his face close to Warren's ear, his lip curling in disgust. " _You know you deserve this."_

"No, no he doesn't. _Lucifer!"_ she snapped, and he finally met her eyes. "Lucifer, _don't_. Put him down."

There was no understanding there as he looked at her, only wrath, unbridled and free. Her words weren't getting through to him. But maybe her actions _would._ Her heart in her throat, she backed away, reaching for her holster. Unhooking her weapon and raising it at her partner hurt her more than any injury ever could. But she'd run out of options. The last thing Lucifer needed was another Marcus or Julian on his conscience.

"LUCIFER!" she shouted, and finally, _finally_ , she had his full focus. "Step away. _NOW."_

Despite his appearance, Lucifer's face was so familiar to her in that moment. A myriad of emotions rapidly came and went across his features as he looked at her, until they settled into something strange.

Resignation.

"This isn't how we do things, Lucifer," she said, kinder now. "You know that. You're not the king of Hell anymore, it's not your job to punish people. Not like this."

Her arm didn't waver as she waited. After ten agonisingly long seconds, he blinked, shrinking into himself as he lowered his head in defeat. He let Warren's body crash to the floor, and the man immediately crawled into a corner, rocking back and forth as he murmured words she could neither hear nor understand.

"I'm sorry," Lucifer said quietly, and his voice was his again, accented and smooth, a voice that didn't belong in the mouth it emerged from. "It's easy sometimes… to forget."

He took a small, hesitant step towards her, and she finally broke, lowering her weapon and moving to meet him halfway. To her surprise though, before she could take him in her arms, he knelt before her. "Lucifer—" she started, but he shook his head.

A noise from the corner of the room when Warren lay distracted her for a moment, and when her gaze returned to Lucifer, the Devil had fallen away, leaving the man she loved looking back up at her. The sadness in his eyes made her want to weep. Silence fell, just for a second, and then she felt his fingers begin to curl softly around her wrist, the one that still held the weapon by her side. She frowned, and when he started to raise her arm, she tried to tug away, struggling uselessly against a grip that was suddenly like iron.

"Lucifer, what are you—"

"Ssh, Detective," he said, and she could only watch in horror as he placed the barrel of her gun against his forehead. And then, of all things, he smiled. "It's okay."

"You can kill me now."


	4. By Your Hand, I Die Willingly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: If character death, even if it's not real, isn't your thing, then you'll want to skip this chapter. The good news is, if you do decide to do that, I've made sure you won't miss anything pertinent to the story.

_He woke with her wrapped in his arms. It was still dark inside the penthouse, the sun not having_ _yet_ _kissed the horizon. Even next to his own, her body was so warm, so perfect beside him. Oh, how he had missed her. She shifted in her sleep, and when he brushed back the hair from her face, she opened her eyes and smiled. He found himself smiling back, and then, out of nowhere, an uneasy feeling rolled over him. The smile fell from his face, and he moved away, out of her reach, staring at her in confusion._

_This was all he had dreamed of, this is how things were meant to be…_

_So why did it feel so wrong?_

...

"And I would do it again… and again… don't you know that, Detective?"

He didn't know how they ended up here. The day felt as though it had gone by in a flash, the time between morning and evening nothing but a blur. But it didn't seem to matter, not now, not with how they were pressed against one of the walls of the penthouse, her heated kisses distracting him from anything other than thoughts of her.

When they parted, he couldn't bring himself to go far, his nose bumping against hers as they both caught their breath. Her fingers traced the skin on his chest, and to his surprise, when she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with torment.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, so quietly that if not for his heightened senses, he wouldn't have heard it at all, her small voice almost completely drowned out by the ever persistent crackling from the fireplace. Her head dropped to the floor, but he hastily ducked a finger under her chin, bringing her gaze back up to meet his.

"Sorry for what, darling?" he said, and she shook her head.

Then suddenly, the look in her eyes turned to steel. "You lied to me." He bristled at the accusation, and the hand that had so gently been caressing him shot to his arm instead, her nails clawing into the skin there. "You burned, and then you didn't. You lied to me. You said you would never lie to me."

"I didn't lie," he said vehemently, "I wouldn't." His thoughts raced inside his head. He needed to explain… but hadn't he done that already? It felt like he had, yet for some reason he couldn't remember. It was so hard to think, his mind becoming muddled as a strange smell began to fill his nostrils...

Too late, he saw that the glow in the Detective's hair was brighter than that which the penthouse usually gave her. Too late, he saw the bookshelves alight, thousands of years worth of history in the midst of being rendered to ash. And far too late, he saw the flames that now surrounded them, the heat crawling across his skin, reminding him of the place that had once been his home, his prison.

"Detective…" He should be frantic, he knew. They needed to get out, she needed to be safe. And yet, it didn't seem important, not right now, not compared to this. "I didn't lie."

Her hand left his arm as she backed away, the fire retreating around her as she did, creating a path for her escape. He tried to follow, but the instant he stepped towards her, a wall of flame rose up, throwing him back against the wall.

She stared at him, and he crumbled under her judgment. "If you didn't lie," she said, and hope rose inside his chest, foolish and fleeting.

"Then _burn_."

With that, she turned from him, stalking towards the elevator. "Don't leave!" he cried out, coughing violently as the inferno finally reached him, tendrils of scorching agony winding their way around his legs. It was a burning he had been through before, made all the worse because this time, the sentence was hers.

"Why not?" she replied, her face barely visible through the haze of smoke and flickering flame. "You left me. I loved you, and you left me."

The elevator doors closed behind her.

…

_He woke with a small cry, the feel of charred flesh and overwhelming pain still present in his mind, its intensity only making it seem more real. Gradually though, his breathing evened out. A nightmare, nothing more. The memory had already faded, but he knew it must have been about his fall. It always was. It always would be._

_At least now he had the comfort of awakening to a dream. Chloe remained in slumber, her body encased in black silk sheets, face tucked neatly against his shoulder, arm wrapped possessively across his chest. He warmed at the sight. She had no need to hold him here, not when he had everything he ever wanted, everything he had missed so much._

_Why would he ever leave?_

…

The fire flickered, warm and inviting next to where they lay on the rug, neither of them having any intention to move any time soon. After all this time, they'd finally done it. A date. An honest to Father date, where there had been no phone calls, no unexpected visitors, no interruptions whatsoever. A feeling of contentment had stolen over him halfway through the evening, sometime between grilled cheese sandwiches and monopoly, and it showed no signs of abating. The Devil was happy. Happier than he could ever remember being.

She really was a miracle.

"More?" she said, stretching lazily towards the wine that sat just out of her reach.

"Certainly, darling," he replied, rising to his feet and swiping up the bottle before she could move any further, swiftly pouring them two generous measures. "Back in a tick, I believe a change of music is in order."

The glass she handed him upon his return was soon nearly empty, as was her own. It was so easy to lose track of these things, as caught up in her beauty as he was. He found himself quite unable to focus on anything else. Except… as time went on, he found himself unable to focus full stop. It was strange. Being near the Detective did have an effect on his metabolism, it was true, but never to this extent. Perhaps some water...

As he tried to stand though, the penthouse began to spin around him, something which only became worse when he began to cough violently. His legs gave way from under him, but before he could hit the floor, Chloe was there, cradling his head in her hands. His eyes widened, silently begging her for help as convulsions wracked his body.

But she had no help to give. He felt the rim of the wine glass pressed against his lips, the woman he cared for so deeply encouraging him to drink what remained. His struggles were fruitless, the liquid soon burning its way down his throat. "I—I thought you loved me?" he gasped, a question that hurt far more than the death that awaited him.

"I did," she said, her eyes cold. "I loved you, and you left me."

…

_Something wasn't right. It was a sensation that came and went, but he had no clue what could be causing it. It was unfathomable, really, for how could anything be wrong when the woman he had missed so much was lying here in his arms, in his bed? And yet, it was still there, that nagging feeling, the one that only went away when…_

_When she did that._

_He sighed as soft lips touched his, her hand trailing low across his stomach, its destination clear. His eyes drifted close as he allowed himself to sink into bliss, letting his thoughts melt away once more._

...

"What I saw… was my partner."

His breath caught, his heart threatening to jump its way out of his chest. She couldn't be here… she couldn't be saying this. It simply wasn't possible. He was the Devil; there was no happy ending for him. Not with her, not with anybody. Even those who knew who he was inside turned away when they knew the truth; Linda had been proof of that.

But… she'd come around, in the end, hadn't she? Could it be that the Detective had too?

Chloe turned to him, the act moving her body closer to his just ever so slightly, their knees touching now. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her hand, gently covering his where it rested on the keys to the piano. When she squeezed her fingers, he winced instinctively, expecting it to hurt. But it didn't, and he couldn't understand why he'd thought that in the first place. There was no wound, no blood, only the warmth of her skin and the comfort it brought.

"You are the best partner I have ever had," she continued, her blue eyes beseeching him. "And… I hope you can count on me as much as I count on you."

"Of course I can, Detective," he replied softly, and at that she shuffled even closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "Do you play?" he said, and she chuckled slightly.

"Play it for me?"

And so he did, for when had he been able to deny her anything? The notes of 'Heart and Soul' flowed into the air, becoming more and more complicated as he lost himself in the music. Lost himself in her, and what this song meant to them both. He didn't notice when she stood, didn't question the loss of heat at his side. It was only when he felt the wire wrap around his neck that he realised where she was, and exactly what she was doing there.

It was with surprising strength that she yanked him backwards, his fingers grasping at the piano before flying to his throat. "But I can't count on you, can I?" she hissed, bringing her head down to his ear as she pulled the garotte even tighter. "You're never there when I need you. You abandoned me here, _alone._ "

His hands scrambled uselessly at his neck, the edges of his vision beginning to go dark. He couldn't speak, couldn't barter his way out of this, couldn't do anything but surrender. For he knew the truth of her words, even before she said them.

"I loved you, and you left me."

…

_The early morning air of the penthouse was cool and soothing when his eyes snapped open, and he gulped it down like water. Chloe looked down at him with concern, her hand stroking his face, silently asking if he was okay. He nodded before swallowing heavily, the ghost of pressure around his throat still lingering. Almost as if she knew, her lips pressed softly there, her kisses gliding across his skin, chasing away the sensation and giving rise to another._

_As he rolled her beneath him, he felt like the luckiest man alive. He had missed her so much, and now she was his._

_If he had his way, they would never leave this room ever again._

…

"I was afraid… afraid you'd only want me because you've seen certain sides of me, that if you saw all of me, _knew_ all of me... you would run away."

Her denial was one that he so wanted to believe. Experience had taught him otherwise. But she… she was different, wasn't she? Made by his Father, made immune to his charms, made to... _accept_ him?

But for that, she needed to know. _He_ needed her to know. They couldn't go on like this, her convinced that he spoke in metaphors, him avoiding showing her who he truly was. If they were to move forward, there could only be truth between them, he knew that now.

"Detective… Chloe… I _am_ the Devil."

She stepped forward, one hand rising to his cheek.

"I know you are," she said, and his breath caught, trapped between shock and disbelief. "Especially to me."

The gunshot tore through his stomach, an all too familiar sensation that he had hoped to never feel again. He doubled over, the fall to the balcony floor serving up another jolt of agony as his knees hit the marble. His feeble attempt to crawl away from her was fruitless, the pain overtaking him before he could even reach the doorway to the penthouse. He forced himself to try and put pressure on the wound, a futile effort to stem the flow of blood spilling out of him. Then, he felt the barrel of a gun pressed to his head. Slowly, he looked up, dreading, but somehow knowing, what he was about to hear.

"I did run away," she spat, a vicious hatred on her face that he could never in a million years pictured seeing there. "I ran as far away as I could from the monster that you are." Her grip loosened slightly on the trigger, and for one absurd moment, he allowed himself to think that she might relent. "But then I came back. And I saw you, I really _saw_ you. I loved you…"

"And then you left me."

The second shot hurt less than hearing that.

…

_He lay still, not wanting to give away the fact he was awake quite yet. With no sunlight to penetrate his bedroom, Chloe was still asleep by his side, a long line of warmth against his body that would normally bring him comfort. But not today. This feeling of deja-vu, something he continued to experience, was starting to bother him. Perhaps it was to be expected; the Detective did thrive on routine after all. It was one of the things he had missed so much about her. But still… that feeling of constant familiarity, of having been there and done that already… it went against his very nature. Hell had been repetitive enough._

_Something about that thought tugged at his mind, but no matter how hard he tried to grasp it, it remained a loose thread that kept slipping through his fingers. And speaking of fingers…_

_His eyes rolled into the back of his head as soft hands caressed him, Chloe having decided to wake him up in the best way possible. As her mouth descended, he pushed his concerns away. If a life of monotony meant a life like this… well, then it was a life he never wanted to change._

...

He was bleeding. How, or why, he didn't know, but it didn't seem important, not with her hand lying so tenderly over his as he held his pocket square over the wound. Every touch from her was precious; a warmth upon his skin that he wished would burn, so that her mark would forever be upon him. "What were you thinking?" she said, an attempt at admonishment, undermined by the concern in her voice. "I told you not to pull it out!"

Ah yes. The knife. It lay in her hand now, a reminder that there were no limits to what he would do if it meant her safety. Something about that niggled in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away, too concerned with the woman kneeling in front of him. "Well, it hardly belonged in there, darling," he quipped, hoping to distract her from his pain.

Her face fell, her hand withdrawing. Dread suddenly gripped him, but he couldn't fathom why. His heartbeat increased, his instincts telling him to _run_. But of course, propped up against the penthouse bar as he was, he couldn't. And he didn't understand why he would even need to…

It was a lack of understanding that didn't last long.

"You're wrong," she said, tilting her head to the side as she regarded him, any and all emotion in her expression disappearing in an instant. "It does belong in there. It just wasn't in the right place."

The pain became blinding, and it was with excruciating agony that he looked down to see the blade embedded deep within his heart, her fingers wrapped around the handle. "Just like you did to me," she whispered, twisting the weapon in a little further. "After you left. After I loved you, and you left me."

…

_The first thing he felt as his eyes flew open was her hand over his heart. He wrenched it away, his breathing wild, the sensation of the knife buried into his chest still there, still so very real. When he looked down though, the skin was smooth, and soon, her hand returned, stroking gently. His mind calmed as the terror faded away, and he luxuriated in her touch instead. The touch he had craved for so long, the touch he had missed with every fibre of his being._

_He never wanted to feel that way again. All he had to do was never let her go._

...

They were dancing.

Starlight shone all around, the lights of the penthouse reflected in the glittering confetti as it drifted to the floor. Music surrounded them, but he couldn't say what it was, not when the only thing that existed to him was the woman in his arms. He couldn't look away from her, not with her body pressed so closely to his, devotion in her eyes, reunited at last. "Detective…" he whispered, and she smiled, a smile so beautiful that the rest of the world disappeared.

When he dipped her, he couldn't help but kiss that smile as he gently pulled her back up again, the first kiss of many to make up for lost time. What he had done to deserve this, he didn't know. But he was grateful. So grateful for her, and to have this second chance. A chance to do things right.

He twirled her in his arms, lost in a sea of sensation. So much so, that he barely felt it when the blade drew across his neck. It wasn't until she stepped away from him, the smile on her face turning to one of victory, that he felt the blood soaking through his shirt. He stared at her in disbelief, completely unable to comprehend what was happening. Hands clutching at his throat, he staggered forwards before he falling to his knees, his eyes never leaving hers the entire time. "Why?" he tried to say, but the words were lost to him. And yet, she heard them anyway.

"Because I loved you… I loved you, and you left me."

…

_The unease hit him from the moment he awoke. His head was full of noise; those feelings of wrongness, of experiences lived and relived, all swirling and crashing together, over and over. It created a pressure, a weight inside that he couldn't seem to shift, no matter how hard he tried to think past it. All he knew was that there was something he needed to remember, something his subconscious kept trying to tell him, and yet, for some reason, it couldn't break through._

_She was the only thing that helped. When it got too bad, he would try to lose himself in her embrace, focusing on the here and now, and on how much he had missed her. Just like he was doing right now, his mouth trailing down her body, the sounds she made only encouraging him to move faster, to go further, to ignore everything inside his head. It wasn't important._

_All that mattered was her._

...

He didn't often give presents. The Devil did favours, an exchange of services, not gifts. But this, this was different. Special. That bullet, it had meaning for him. Her approval of the necklace he'd had it fashioned into suddenly felt like the most important thing in the entire world. When she opened the box, he held his breath. An archangel, nervous of human's reaction. The mere thought of it seemed ridiculous. And yet, here he was.

"It's beautiful."

He sighed with relief. Those words were all he had hoped for. If only he could tell her that its beauty was incomparable to her. When she opened her arms, he was powerless to resist. Her laughter was a joy, her embrace a sanctuary. Afterwards, he found himself lying beside her, her head resting on his chest, the silk of his own shirt that clung to her body resting against his skin. As sleep began to claim him, his only wish was that they could always stay like this.

And then, he felt the pillow over his face. His initial shock faded quickly, urgency taking over as the pressure only increased. But try as he might, his struggles yielded nothing, the unseen attacker possessing a strength he would have expected only from one of his siblings. He had to fight though, had to break free, the Detective was here, the Detective was in danger, the Detective… was speaking.

"It was my birthday," she said, all the emotion from earlier completely drained from her voice. "It was my birthday, and you left me. You always leave me. I loved you, and you left me."

Sleep never came for him that night. But death did.

…

_The feel of golden silk against his face was not a welcome one. He panicked, the shout he made muffled by the material, until the hand against his back gave him pause. One deep, reassuring breath later, and he realised he had fallen asleep on his front, burying his face in the pillow in the process. Nevertheless, he threw it across the room, opting to use his favourite human as a pillow instead. He felt her laugh as he dragged her closer, and as he settled against her she began to gently run her nails through his hair._

_He sighed, thinking about just how much he'd missed the way she held him with such care, in a way no one else ever had. As sleep began to claim him once more, the last thought he had was that he wished they could be together always._

...

Had she ever looked more heavenly? If she had, he couldn't remember it. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming, and yet, in that moment, it didn't feel necessary. Everything they felt for each other was there in the way she held him, in how her nose brushed against his as their foreheads touched. "This is real, isn't it?" he asked, unable to stop himself voicing his wonder.

"It is," she replied, and the joy within his heart swelled to bursting. Gently, he reached out to caress her face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It was."

 _It wa_ _s?_ _What did she mean it—_

There was no time to think on it further. One second later and he felt the needle pierce his skin, ice cold liquid flooding into his veins. He stumbled backwards, his hand rising to his face as blood began to pour from his nose. "Detective?" he choked out, telling himself that he was seeing things, that it couldn't be her standing in front of him holding a syringe.

"It was real," she repeated, and Heaven turned to Hell right before his eyes. "It was so real. I loved you, and you left me."

…

_He watched her as she slept. Not for the first time, he knew. What concerned him was that he didn't know how many times exactly. And that… that wasn't right. He was a celestial, an immortal, a being outside of time. It didn't blur together for him, not like this. So many mornings, so many evenings here in the penthouse, wrapped in her embrace, wrapped in her… all here, in this bed, in this room. She had a child, a job… and yet she never left. He never left._

_Everything felt so wrong, and so right, all at the same time. And that, in itself, was wrong._

_He was so happy, and he had missed her so dearly… but as the days drifted by, his dreams started to haunt him. He remembered more and more each time he woke, flashes of things that seemed so impossible that his mind rejected them outright. And yet, as it happened again, and again, and again…_

_It began to feel like truth._

…

It wasn't the first time he'd had someone new in his bathtub. But, he mused as he took in the vision before him, it might well be the last. He couldn't imagine having a better bathing companion than the Detective, nor did he want to. From the moment she stripped down to join him, he hadn't been able to think of anything else but her.

She was here, with him. What did the rest of the world matter when he had that?

An old feeling he had almost forgotten rose, and he frowned at the not-quite-a-memory. He shouldn't have this. Not after what he did.

_What did he do?_

"Detective?" he said, confused, yet undeniably curious. With a small sound of contentment, she opened her eyes, smiling lazily as she trailed her foot along his inner thigh.

 _Don't get distracted,_ he told himself. Well, a certain part of himself, anyway.

"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly. "Are you sure that you want this? You must know that you deserve… that you deserve someone _better_."

She shook her head. "That's not true, Lucifer."

That feeling of anxiety washed over him again. Somehow, he'd been expecting her to say something else.

"But it is." He reached forward to take her hands, the water sloshing in the tub around him. "You deserve someone worthy of you, as _good_ as you. You're special. And I… I'm not worth it."

Slowly, she rose to her knees, water streaming down her naked body. He did his best to keep his eyes trained on her face, but it was… hard, to say the least. Her smirk the next time his gaze flickered back to her lips told him everything about how successful he'd been.

She lowered herself back down on top of him, and it took everything he had to hold back a groan. With her added weight, he slipped down further into the water, but with the feel of her lips on his, he paid it no mind.

"You're right, you know," she said as she pulled away, the hands she had placed on his shoulders sliding to cradle his face. He closed his eyes in pleasure as she caressed him, savouring her touch against his damp skin. "You're not worth it."

It took a moment for her words to sink in, but a moment was all she needed. The next thing he knew, he was under the water, Chloe's weight on top of him suddenly a hundred times more than it should have been. He thrashed with everything he had, but it was no use, her body pinning him effortlessly, the grip she had on his head like iron.

Yet despite it all, he could still hear her, still see her clearly as she bid him her goodbye, ignoring the bubbles that rose from his mouth as he pleaded, reasoned, his words drowned by the water as much as he was.

"You were _never_ worth it. Never worth my love. I loved you, and you left me."

She watched as the air in his lungs burned away to nothing, and he left her once more.

…

_This time, when he shot out of the bed, she was already there, ready and waiting to comfort him. Her presence was a balm, a reminder that she would never do to him what his sleeping mind insisted she would. This was the real world, this was the Chloe he had loved and missed more than he would ever be able to express out loud. He clung to her, letting her rock him gently until the memory of the dream was forgotten._

_This is what she did to him. With her, the darkness faded away until there was only light left. A light he wanted to bathe in for eternity. And if she let him, he would._

...

She didn't leave. He had been so sure she would for some reason… and yet there she was, the lights of the city twinkling behind her, a half eaten burger and fries lying abandoned on the table next to where she was standing.

He didn't deserve her, this creature of beauty and grace. His love for her was fierce, overwhelming to the point where some days he could think of little else. During their time apart he had missed her every hour, every second; he had told her as much that morning as he held her. Speaking of which…

Slowly, he slipped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder. His return to her was inevitable, in all respects. Her call was irresistible, and he answered it over and over again. She leaned back into his body with a sigh, and he vowed to cherish this moment for the blessing that it was. "You stayed," he whispered into her ear, hoping those two words could express the depths of his gratitude.

She turned her head, gracing him with a kiss. "Of course I did," she said with a smile, "I always stay."

With a speed he would have thought beyond her, she flipped their bodies, crushing his to the railing with her own. She kissed him again, but this time it was vicious, biting, and while he would have once found this thrilling, it was so unlike her that he pulled back.

Pulled back against a railing that was no longer there.

He stumbled, and it was enough as his foot slipped over the edge, his body veering towards the street below. It shouldn't have been frightening; he was an angel, and a silly human fear such as heights was beneath him, but falling… falling was different.

Flailing, he grabbed for her hand, a plea she duly granted. But she didn't pull him back to safety, didn't even try to right him on his feet. No, she merely looked at him, leaving him suspended over the city.

"You're the one that leaves," she said, her words hollow. "You always leave."

He wanted to shout out, to explain that he had no choice, that he did it for her, _always_ for her… but he couldn't. Words, movement, all were lost to him as he hung there, a condemned subject awaiting the verdict of his queen.

But she would bestow upon him no mercy that night.

"I loved you. And you left me."

She let go, and he fell once more.

…

_The sensation of falling didn't leave him upon waking. But he didn't land in Hell. How could he? He was already there._

_It was a truth he had tried to avoid for so long, but it couldn't be denied. None of this was real. He was the Devil; Hell couldn't hide from him forever. Not all the time, anyway. There were moments, blissful, peace filled moments, where he would forget. He envied that Lucifer, the one that could look into her eyes and believe that he was finally with the woman he loved. His first love. The love that had left a hole in his heart with her absence._

_He needed to leave, he knew that. And yet… as he watched her sleep, the whispers of doubt began to creep in. What if he was wrong? What if she was here, really here, the happiness he had searched for unknowingly for so long? How could he think of leaving her?_

_Of breaking her heart, again?_

_Because he had, hadn't he? She had pleaded with him to stay, and he had denied her. Broken her. She learned to love the monster, and that love had destroyed her._

_He was poison. He was guilty. He deserved this._

_And so he surrendered. He surrendered himself to her, to his punishment, to his fate._

_He stayed._

_Just like he did before. Just like he would do again. And again. And again..._

…

She was in his arms. The scent of Hawaiian bread still lingered in the air, but it was nothing compared to the smell of her perfume, to the trace of shampoo that tickled his nose as he rested his head on hers. He would never tire of holding her, he was convinced of it. Every time they took comfort in each other, he found himself wishing they could remain that way for eternity. No one had ever held him with such tenderness, not in all of his existence.

"You really do?" she asked quietly, her face buried in his shirt. "You think my dad would be proud?"

He ran his hand up and down her back in a way that he hoped would prove to be soothing. "Of course, Detective. I may have never met the man, but from what you've told me, you are every bit your father's daughter."

Tightening her arms around him just that little bit more, she mumbled, "Would he be proud of me for loving you?"

His heart stopped, as it always did when she said that. That word, whenever it left her lips, it awed him, so much so that he didn't even respond, lost for what to say.

She leaned back slightly, and looked him in the eye as she repeated herself. "Would he be proud of me for loving you? For loving the _Devil?"_

It all happened so quickly. She yanked herself away from him, simultaneously thrusting something into his side. Before he could even say a word, every muscle in his body seized, lightning shooting through his limbs, rendering him motionless. Unable to do anything else, he crashed to the floor, the Detective, his _Chloe_ , making no effort whatsoever to cushion his fall.

"I loved you!" she shouted, and he grunted as her foot connected with his ribs. "I loved you, and you _left_ me!"

He lay there, powerless to do anything to defend himself, while the blows continued to come. At one point, they worsened, the nearby pan adding heft to her efforts. But although the pain was almost blinding, that wasn't what hurt the most.

No, that was the screaming.

Sounds like none he had ever heard from the Detective tore their way from her throat; grief, rage, the kind of despair he had only ever encountered in the very depths of Hell. Sounds he had never wanted to hear her make, nevermind be responsible for.

It was that which broke him, which prevented him from trying to save himself. Because somewhere, underneath it all, he knew that he deserved this.

His last thought before she dealt the final blow was of her.

Of how she had loved him. And he had left her.

…

_It was early. Far too early for him to be awake, but he couldn't grumble too much. Not when his Detective lay next to him, her hair glowing softly in the moonlight. Would he ever tire of watching her like this? He couldn't imagine that could ever happen. He was finally happy. Impossibly, incandescently, overwhelmingly happy._

_She smiled, betraying the fact she was no longer in the grip of slumber. He kissed her, long and deep, trying to convey all he felt in the best way he could. When he drew back, she was breathless with want, and his heart seemed to double in size inside his chest._

_He vowed, right then and there, that he would never leave her again._

_She loved him._

_It was real._

_And oh... how he had missed her._


	5. You Speak Truths, I Can’t Believe

"There's something wrong with him."

Linda sighed, and Chloe could feel the therapist's eyes tracking her as she paced back and forth across the office, wringing her hands endlessly together as she went. She couldn't bring herself to sit down, not now they were here, not after she practically had to drag Lucifer through the door just to get him into the room. After depositing the Devil on the sofa, the look on his face no different to her daughter's after being made to go to the dentist, she made the mistake of standing again, and that was that. The restless energy that had been burning through her body since back-up arrived at the scene refused to abate, no matter what she did. It was that anxiousness, that deep seated worry she hadn't even known was there until now, which had led her to drive here the second she was able to get her partner in the car.

He complained the entire way here. Therapy was useless. Needless. A complete waste of time when it wasn't going to change anything. For her part, she stayed silent, her fingers white knuckled on the steering wheel. She knew he thought she was angry at him; it was part of the reason for the constant stream of endless whining. It was a tactic he'd used before, a tactic which, she was ashamed to admit, usually worked. Eventually, given enough time, it would go one of two ways. She would either snap at him, which would give him that delighted glint in his eye he always got when he managed to rile her, or he would say something so ridiculous that she wouldn't be able to stop herself from laughing. The result was the same, no matter what. It wouldn't be long until she forgot what she was so mad about in the first place, and they would fall back into that easy camaraderie she had never in all her years felt with anybody else other than him.

But not today.

Today, she didn't dare open her mouth, too afraid of what might come out. Afraid she might make the situation even worse than it already was. If that was even possible.

" _It's okay. You can kill me now."_

What the hell was she supposed to say to that? Why did he even say it? Did he honestly think she was that angry she wanted to _kill_ him? The look in his eyes… it scared her. There was no fear there, just acceptance. Encouragement, even. His fingers, drifting over her hand, gently guiding her to the trigger…

Thinking about it made her feel sick. He obviously needed help, which is why she'd brought him here, to the only person qualified to do so. Surely his therapist, the only other human who knew what Lucifer actually _was_ , would be able to explain this. And while she was at it, perhaps Linda would be able to help her understand as well. Because as things stood, she couldn't understand what was going on in his head. They'd been happy, hadn't they, since he got back? So why would he—

She couldn't go there again. Couldn't keep reliving that moment in her mind. God, if she'd not been able to drop the gun in time…

"Chloe."

Linda's voice snapped her out of the memory, and she was glad of it. If she could erase that moment from her mind forever, she would. Instead, she suspected the image would haunt her for a long time, if it ever went away at all.

"I know you might have limited experience of therapy," the therapist continued patiently, "but we don't use that kind of language here."

Despite Linda's tone, she felt a flush of shame at the chastisement. It was quickly replaced by anger though, borne of frustration and a lack of understanding, on both their parts.

"He wanted me to kill him, Linda!" she snapped. The moment the words left her lips though, she deflated, the adrenaline surging through her system draining away in one big rush. _"He wanted me to kill him,"_ she repeated quietly, defeatedly, before finally sinking down onto the sofa, her head in her hands.

"Lucifer?" Linda's voice was calm, collected, but years of experience interviewing suspects meant Chloe could hear the note of worry there. Of… recognition, almost. Because, now that she thought about it, this wasn't exactly the first time Lucifer had tried something like this, was it? Did that mean it wouldn't be the last?

 _"Wanted_ is a strong word," he grumbled, refusing to look at either of them, his eyes fixed firmly on the ring he was playing with on his hand. Chloe sharply raised her head, just enough to glare at him in disbelief.

"It's okay, you can kill me now!" she said, not purposefully intending to mock him, but her accent slipped into that ridiculous cadence it always did when she quoted his own words back at him regardless. "How is that not wanting me to… to…"

She couldn't bring herself to say it again.

His only response was to shrink into himself, and the guilt ate her up inside at the sight of it. She was handling this poorly, she knew. But the problem was that she had no idea _how_ to handle it. That was exactly why they were here, why she had called Linda for an emergency session as soon as she had the opportunity. Apparently, appointments outside of Lucifer's scheduled time weren't exactly uncommon though, and arrangements were quickly made. Which she was thankful for in so many ways, but especially because otherwise, she had no idea how she would be coping with this right now.

"It's okay, Chloe," Linda said, sympathetic but firm, her body language silently indicating it was Lucifer's turn. Acquiescing, Chloe lowered her head once more, forcing herself to take deep, measured breaths, hoping to calm the storm rolling incessantly inside her.

Lucifer remained silent, and after a few seconds, Linda prompted him. "If this wasn't what you wanted, how would you describe it?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe watched as he bristled before adjusting his cuffs, his rigid posture giving away exactly how uncomfortable he was with the entire situation.

"I'd call it bringing forward the bloody inevitable," he groused, still not making eye contact with either of them, least of all her. Despite desperately wanting to ask him to explain what on earth he meant by that, she forced herself not to say anything. That was Linda's job, not hers.

"And what _is_ the inevitable, exactly?"

He shifted awkwardly, pulling on his sleeves again, more ill at ease than she'd ever seen him. "Well, I thought that would have been obvious, Doctor."

Linda paused, and when Chloe looked up at her, she was sitting calmly, waiting for Lucifer to speak again. When it became clear he wasn't going to, the therapist pushed further. "Let's pretend it's not, shall we?"

"She—" He twisted his ring once more, and Chloe could almost feel the weight of his gaze upon her as though it were a physical, solid, thing. "I—"

She glanced towards him, and he closed up immediately, shaking his head rapidly as he directed panicked eyes back towards Linda. He didn't say a word, but he didn't need to. There was something preventing him from opening up, and that something... was her.

A fact which didn't escape Linda, either. "Would you rather Chloe waited outside?" she asked. Expecting the answer to be yes, Chloe moved to pick up her coat.

"NO!"

Linda jumped at his outburst, as did she. Lucifer stuttered apologetically, before tugging nervously at his collar. "I'd rather the Detective remain," he said, and gave her a small smile. Unable to resist the urge to try to comfort him, she reached over to give his hand a small squeeze. To her surprise, he didn't let go, flipping his hand to capture hers tightly, his fingers threading through her own. His smile remained, but there was such sadness there too, a sadness she couldn't explain.

"Okay then," Linda said, interrupting the moment. "It that case, let's talk about—"

Lucifer's attention flew back to the therapist so fast, she could almost feel the mental whiplash inside his head. "Oh, I'll talk," he said, the same irritation he'd shown earlier slipping back into his voice. "Talk about how bloody pointless this all is."

His hand left hers just as quickly as he had taken it, and he rose to his feet in one furious, fluid movement. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the change of scenery… but _really?_ Therapy as a form of torture? Talk about amateur hour. I leave them alone for a few millennia and _this_ is how far standards have fallen?" Marching to the window, he peered through the blinds and tutted, shaking his head. "They have their King at their disposal, you'd think the least they could do is use _a_ _little imagination!"_

That last part, he yelled… at nothing. Not at them, not at the sky, as he so often did when talking to his Father. Just out into the empty air, as if he expected a response from someone neither Linda nor herself could see. A few seconds passed where nothing happened, and then he rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. "Still, better than the penthouse, I suppose," he muttered, returning to the sofa and flopping back down as far away as he could from her on the other side. "If I never have to see that place again for a couple of centuries, it will be too soon."

Chloe stared at him in shock. Surely Linda could see just how bad things had gotten now. Even if you took all of the crazy stuff about torture and standards out… Lucifer _loved_ his penthouse. And yet... he hadn't been back there since his return. So why the sudden aversion? It certainly wasn't anything to do with preferring her apartment, for while he certainly relished being close to her there, she hadn't exactly missed the moaning about her lack of facilities. Never mind the extra cleaning she frequently caught him doing whenever she left him alone for more than five minutes. And as for the rest of his rant… well, she hadn't a clue.

She turned to Linda, expecting to see the same kind of confusion on her face that she was currently feeling. But that wasn't what she saw, and her stomach turned at the sight. The therapist looked… horrified. And that horror, came with what looked like dawning realisation. Chloe knew then, that Linda had somehow figured out what was going on. And what was going on, wasn't good.

Not at all.

"Lucifer, where are you right now?" Linda asked, struggling to school her expression back into something resembling neutrality.

Chloe frowned; it seemed a strange thing to ask for her to ask, especially considering that just a minute ago Lucifer had been talking to someone who wasn't even there. She was no expert, but surely hearing voices, if that's what this was, ranked pretty highly up there on the 'things to be worried about' list.

The look he gave Linda in response to her question was one Lucifer normally reserved for Dan and Dan alone. It was also remarkably similar to the look Chloe herself often gave him. A look that conveyed the exact amount of incredulity she was currently feeling at the level of whatever idiocy had just exited his mouth.

"I'm in your office..." he said, slow and deliberate, like one would to a child that hadn't quite grasped a concept that should be easy to understand.

Linda shook her head, her eyes focusing on the floor for a second, before rising again determinedly. She paused briefly, before drawing a deep breath as she visibly steeled herself. "No, Lucifer, where are you _really?_ "

For the first time that session, Lucifer brightened. He sat up a little straighter, the corners of his mouth turning upward into a grin.

"Breaking the fourth wall, I see, Doctor. I'm impressed!"

Linda watched him silently, waiting for Lucifer to actually answer her question. For her part, Chloe could only wait, completely lost as to what line of inquiry the therapy was pursuing.

After a minute, Lucifer chuckled. He leaned back against the sofa, crossing his legs as he went; the very picture of nonchalance. Throwing out his hands, he gestured at the space surrounding them.

"Why, I'm in Hell, of course! As you well know."

Her breath caught in her throat as the world around her ground to a halt. The silence in the room did nothing to help the sensation; Linda seemed as shocked as she was, despite her obvious suspicions. Memories raced through her mind as she catalogued her time with Lucifer since his rescue. Every smile, every kiss, every time he held her, every time they made love… he thought he was in Hell, the entire time? Through _all_ of it?

The look on her face must have given her away. Concerned, he reached for her, and she flinched away from him. His face fell, and he withdrew into the corner of the sofa again, doing his best to hide the hurt at her rejection.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you," he said faintly. "You don't always seem to know… not at first. Not until it happens. I didn't—" He closed his eyes, as though he couldn't bring himself to look at her any longer. "I didn't want to put you through that."

"Not until what happens, Lucifer?" Linda asked shakily, although Chloe suspected that, again, she already knew the answer.

And so did she.

It scratched at the corner of her mind, similar to the way the solution to a case often did as the pieces of evidence slotted into place. Except this time, all she wanted to do was push it away. She didn't _want_ to know, didn't want that knowledge to sink into her mind, to become _real_.

But the choice was taken away from her.

"Until she kills me. Just like she always does."

She barely stopped herself from throwing up. How could he— _Why_ would he ? Tears burned in her eyes as bile scorched her throat, her body as shaken as her mind as she struggled to _understand_. And what made it worse, was his reaction to her distress. It wasn't the fear from before, it wasn't even solely concern, it was _guilt._ He felt bad for making her feel bad.

About _killing_ him.

"It's okay though!" he said hurriedly, practically tripping over his words in his rush to reassure her. "That's how Hell works. I might not be able to stop it, or have full control over the setting in this particular case" —he gestured briefly to the room around them—"but the punishment is all my own. It's not your fault, you see. I deserve this."

" _What?"_ she breathed, but he didn't seem to hear her, railroading over her words as though she'd never spoken at all.

"And besides, it's not all doom and gloom. In fact, things have been changing quite a lot lately! Although I suppose that makes sense," he said with a fond smile, tilting his head to the one side, "you always did like to keep me on my toes."

He was looking at her like someone would a photograph, a memory.

_Because he didn't think she was real._

A grin spread over his face then, and inwardly, she cringed, suspecting exactly what was going to come out of his mouth next.

"And who knew that would extend to the bedroom as well! See, Doctor," he said, turning his head to address Linda again, "it's not all bad." He even punctuated it with a wink.

Laughter bubbled up, and too late, she recognised it as hysteria. The cackle that erupted from her was loud; loud enough that even Lucifer startled. It quickly evolved into a sob, one that she tried desperately to keep in by slapping her hand over her mouth. She failed miserably. Her entire body trembled as she tried to keep from breaking.

A hand gingerly touched her shoulder. "Chloe, I…" He broke away, looking at Linda helplessly. The therapist appeared equally as lost though, blinking back tears from her eyes.

"Lucifer, would you mind waiting outside for a minute?" she said after a moment. Chloe didn't miss the small crack in her voice.

He turned to her, an unasked question on his face, and she nodded in answer, small but frantic. She needed space, needed to get him out of here before she said or did something she couldn't take back. She could tell by how his eyes dimmed that he thought this was another rejection, but there was nothing she could do about that right now. It was just one more hurt on top of a damn mountain.

Slowly, he stood and walked to the door. Just before he stepped through though, he hesitated, turning to face her again. "Detective?" he said, in a way that almost seemed… nervous? "As we're being honest today… I'd like to ask that you use the gun next time. It's quicker, I'm used to the pain, and… well, I must admit I'm not overly fond of watching you watch me die." When she didn't answer, he merely gave a small nod, accompanied by an even weaker smile. And then he was gone, swiftly closing the door behind him.

The second the latch clicked into place, she let herself fall apart.

…

The next few days were hard, some of the hardest she could remember. After her father died, she spent weeks in a daze, veering wildly from anger at the injustice of it all, to a grief so deep she thought it would tear her apart. When Dan left, that was a whole different kind of loss to deal with; a love gone wrong, a promise that neither of them had been able to keep. There were days where all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and shut out the world, a world that had failed to give her a happy ever after. And then there was her job, which brought along with it a new and unique kind of pain with almost every case. The pain of telling someone that their loved one had died, of not getting there in time to prevent more loss, of failing to bring justice for someone taken before their time.

It was a pain her partner had always been there to help null, in his own way. And so now, despite the urge to cry, to mourn, to scream at a God she was fairly sure wasn't even listening, it was her turn to do the same for him. To be strong, for when he couldn't be. To help him understand that the life they were living, this crazy, unpredictable state of affairs that she had never expected, yet wouldn't change for the world, was _real._

Their happiness together was real.

But was part of the problem, wasn't it?

She'd been so happy, so wrapped up in him, that she hadn't noticed anything was wrong. Or maybe, she just hadn't _wanted_ to notice. But now that Linda had told her what little she knew of Hell, now that she had spoken to Maze, and to Amenadiel… those days of ignorance were long gone, and she cursed herself for not seeing the signs.

Because, boy, did she see them now.

It was in the way he flinched when she moved just that bit too fast, in how his eyes never left the blade she held as she prepared their evening meal. To start off with, she found it exasperating, that despite the reassurances Linda suggested she give, he still believed she could hurt him, that she was _going_ to hurt him. In the end though, she tried her best to ignore it, knowing full well that bringing it up only made it worse. He would get upset for upsetting her, and the whole cycle would begin again anew.

But nothing hurt more than the day she realised that no matter how long it took for her to come to the table after dishing up their dinner, he always waited. Waited for her to take a sip from her glass before he drank from his own, waited for her to take the first bite from the food she'd so lovingly prepared for him. He never left the table, never let his plate be unguarded, or his wine unwatched.

It was easy to tell herself at first that it was nothing more than a habit left over from Hell. He was a king, after all, and kings of any kind were accustomed to preparing for an attempt on their life. If some of the most powerful men on Earth could be slaughtered by those that serve them, what must it be like for a ruler of demons? She'd seen what Maze could do. She knew a demon's knife could peel the flesh from his bones, whether she was there to make him vulnerable or not. It made sense that there were other things in that awful place that could hurt him just as badly.

But then one evening, about a week into her medical leave, he took a glass of whisky she had poured for him with quivering hands, his eyes flickering to the bag she wore on that fateful night so long ago, the night he discovered her betrayal. And she understood.

_He knew._

Somehow, he knew what she had done. What she had _almost_ done. They'd never talked about their failure of a date, and she had foolishly hoped that he hadn't figured out how close she had come to destroying everything they had built together. That it was, essentially, an accident that had saved his existence on Earth. At least temporarily.

But she'd been wrong. The idea that he believed she had changed her mind about using the vial Kinley gave her shattered the instant she realised he was uncomfortable drinking something he hadn't seen her pour. Not because of his time in Hell, but because it was _her_.

From then on, she made a point of getting to the table first. She was always the one to take the first bite, to drink from her glass as soon as it was full, before those thoughts even had a chance to cross his mind. Anything to see him look at her without fear in his eyes, if only for a little while. Anything that would make him more comfortable, that would allow him to relax in her presence without thinking about the past.

She only wished she could do the same.

...

There were good days though.

Days where she wakes up to find him sleeping peacefully next to her. Days where she can pretend that when he opens his eyes, she won't see those glimpses of the torment that refuses to relinquish its grip on his fragile mind, won't notice the resigned expression of someone waiting for the next blow to land when he looks back at her.

Those days, everything is almost perfect. He gazes at her as though she is the sunlight, as if the thought that she could hurt him had never existed. Those are the days that give her hope, initially. Hope that somehow, magically, they have managed to move past this. That he knows now, knows where he is, and that the torture is finally over. Normality shines, just at the edge of the horizon, and together, they reach for it.

And then another dawn comes. And he remembers.

He hides it so well, and so quickly, that sometimes, she can ignore it. Those mornings, his whispered greeting doesn't hurt quite so much, and she tells herself that nothing has changed. That she was working late last night, or that he was busy at Lux. That he missed her because they were apart for just a few hours, not for months, or for millennia.

And the lie almost works. Almost starts to feel real when he presses his lips to hers, and the morning starts just as she had always imagined it would with him. Soft caresses and languorous kisses, delighting in what they had denied themselves for so long. Afterwards, she holds his face in her hands, and repeats the same words she tells him at the beginning of every day, stuck in a loop of her own creation, in parallel to his own.

_I love you. You're here. You're safe. I love you. I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you. I love you._

She can't bring herself to ask him if he believes her.

Not when she already knows the answer.

…

Those good days, those precious, happy days, they always end the same.

 _"Thank you,"_ he says softly as she slips into bed beside him, burying his head into the curve of her neck, nosing her hair out of the way to press a kiss behind her ear. _"Thank you for today."_

Sometimes, they'll stay like that until she falls asleep, the rhythmic sound of his breathing and the steady beat of his heart under her hands lulling her into an uneasy slumber. Other nights it will be him that succumbs first, leaving her to lie awake, staring at the ceiling, endlessly searching for a way to save him from himself.

Because anything is better than thinking about the real reason for his gratitude as the day draws to an end. He isn't thanking her for a lovely day. Hell, he isn't even thanking her for being with him when he doesn't think he deserves it.

No, he's thanking her for not _killing him._ For not _torturing_ him.

And it hurts. It hurts so much, because she knows, she _knows_ , that before the fear, before the lies, before _Rome,_ that he could never have thought of her that way. She was always so good in his eyes. He had placed her on a pedestal so high that really it should be no surprise that one day she would come crashing down. She just wished it hadn't been in a way that would scar him so deeply, that would cause such a mark of pain upon his soul that his subconscious considered her betrayal to be the worst punishment imaginable.

They both knew what the other was capable of now. Even after she found out who he was, even after she started to accept the falsehoods she learned about him as truth, a part of her had clung to the idea that, underneath it all, the man she loved was an angel. That he was _good_ , in that same way he believed her to be. But the reality was that neither of them were perfect. No one was. That, above all things, was what it meant to be _human_.

She had always seen the angel in him, then she saw the Devil, but now she saw the humanity. And she accepted all of them, accepted all of _him_. But he didn't accept himself, and that was part of the problem. All of this wasn't just down to the guilt he felt from having to leave her. It was because of the monster he still saw himself as. Because of the hatred that remained, for everything he was and all that he had done. And she doubted that having to go back, having to take up that mantle of punisher once more, had helped much in that regard.

In one of the few moments alone they managed to grab together after therapy, with Lucifer waiting just outside, Linda told her she believed he would have ended up in a loop no matter what. Had she had the chance, she said, she would have begged him not to go, to consider the inevitable outcome of returning, now that he was so different to the king he once was. But in the end, Chloe agreed he wouldn't have listened. Acceptance of himself might be beyond him, but he had embraced his duty again willingly. And in the process, unknowingly sacrificed himself.

All to protect them. All to protect _her_.

But it didn't stop the thought, on those sleepless nights, that while Lucifer may have always been destined for a cell, it was what awaited him inside it that had finally crushed him. That it was the reminder of her willingness to hurt him, witnessed over and over without end, that had taken what little strength he had left. This torture he was going through, this punishment he had chosen…

She couldn't help feeling it was all her fault.

…

Those good days and hard days, they eventually blended together into a sort of routine, if anyone could call living through a constant rollercoaster of emotions a routine. She never knew which Lucifer she was dealing with until the first few minutes of the day had passed; longer if those first few minutes consisted of him waking her up in his favourite way.

A way that was quickly becoming her favourite too, if she were honest.

Once the day had begun, she did the best she could to follow Linda's advice. The ideal option, of course, would have been to try and return Lucifer's life to something resembling what it had been before, in the hope that familiarity would encourage a feeling of normality. But that was impossible. He still refused point blank to return to the penthouse, and even the one trip they'd taken to Lux was a failure.

The thrumming music, the never ending push and pull of bodies surrounding him… it had taken barely any time at all for him to become completely overwhelmed, to the point where that wild look returned to his eyes, and Chloe was forced to drag him from the floor, lest things go badly. It was just as much a misadventure on her part, her still somewhat bruised ribs left screaming after having to manhandle a celestial on the verge of a panic attack.

That, combined with the fact she was still on leave from work, meant returning to their old lives just wasn't possible right now. At any other time, she would have been back in the precinct already, demanding that she be allowed to do desk work at least, anything but lounge around at home with nothing to do. Although she was sure, if given the opportunity, Lucifer would argue she had plenty to do. _Him_ , mainly.

But a girl had to leave the bedroom every so often, and so establishing a new normal became the aim, at least for now. They cooked together, laughed together, watched movies in the evenings. Anything to distract him, to make life feel so good he would have no choice but to eventually conclude he was no longer in Hell. He even appeared to enjoy having Trixie around now; granted, her monkey had been spending more time with Dan these days while Chloe recuperated, but when she _was_ here, Lucifer seemed far more at ease than he had been just a few weeks ago.

Not that her injury was the entire reason for her daughter's absence. Dan hadn't exactly been pleased with the developments in her relationship with her partner since his return. Naturally, he was even less impressed to find out about their new living arrangements. She couldn't really argue with his reasoning, after all, Trixie was just as heartbroken as her after Lucifer vanished from their lives. Her daughter was over the moon about the Devil's return, but it was simply a mirror to her previous sadness over his leaving.

And when Trixie was there… Chloe suspected it helped, not that Lucifer would ever admit it, if he even realised it at all. From what little information she had learned about his experiences in Hell, it appeared that it had only ever been the two of them there. Trixie was an aberration, a break in pattern. A reminder, she hoped, that this wasn't a loop. That things had changed.

Of course, the other thing she continued to hope would help was therapy. Getting Lucifer to go remained a nightmare, but with enough persuasion, she succeeded, more than once. Most of the time, he barely spoke, with the exception of reiterating that he didn't want Chloe to leave the room, and providing Linda with the most basic of answers to her questions. The therapist was trying her best, but with only so many human conditions she could relate Lucifer's situation to—and rare ones at that—there was only so much she could do.

For how do you persuade someone they're not in Hell, when they actually _were?_ How do you convince them that the world they're in is real, when it's completely feasible that it isn't?

It was a question that neither of them knew the answer to yet.

And so alongside her partner, she continued to navigate the good days and the hard days, until gradually, the harder days began to grow fewer, and the time to return to the precinct nearer. With her injuries healed, she was ready to be declared fit for duty again, and the work element of their lives could finally return. She was excited, both to get out on the streets again, but more importantly, to be doing it alongside the man she loved. It was a step in the right direction.

The days might still be hard, but it was worth it for the good.

The mistake she made, of course, was not preparing for the bad.


	6. While You Drown, I Cannot Breathe

Sometimes she wondered how she could have ever been so naive, thinking that going back to work would help. At first, it was fine. She already knew she was bound for desk duty before she even got there, which also meant being able to anticipate Lucifer's constant complaining about paperwork. The familiarity was comforting, up until the point he began to wonder out loud if this was yet another alteration to his Hell loop. The pen she threw at him was borne of years spent tolerating his whining, but in reality it also covered up the pain she felt inside at hearing him say such a thing.

But he still refused to leave her, and so for a couple of weeks, this was how they spent their days. In the end, he even buckled down, more through necessity than boredom, though. His reasoning was that the quicker they got to the bottom of the pile, the sooner they could go back to the apartment and... _spend time together_ , as he put it.

Not that it stopped him from trying to 'spend time together' in the precinct as well. In the end, she'd had to resort to bribing Dan with pudding to get him to go down to the file room in her stead. One too many trips there with Lucifer hot on her heels had proved testing on her patience… and her libido, to be frank.

Because for some reason, no matter what he believed about where he was or what she had in store for him... he still wanted her, and he wasn't shy about it either. It didn't help that she was so much more aware of him these days. He hadn't exactly had much of a concept of personal space before, but now it was even worse. His body was a scorching line of heat against her back, his voice a warm whisper ghosting over her ear, and his touch… well, even an innocent meeting of fingers as she passed him a pen across the desk was enough to send sparks across her skin.

It was a fact he took advantage of at every opportunity. Before they set foot through the door on the day of her return, she made it quite clear that they were to be nothing but professional at work. It was hard to remember that though, when he had her wrapped around him against the nearest hard surface, away from prying eyes. The Devil had never cared much for rules, and a Devil that didn't think the world he was in was real cared even less.

Looking back, that should have been her first hint as to just how wrong things were going to go.

It started during an interrogation. Dan's latest case had hit a brick wall, and everyone in the department knew that Chloe and Lucifer had the best track record when it came to getting confessions. Of course, they didn't understand the reason as to _why_ , but they didn't stop to question it either. The two of them got results, and that was all that mattered.

As they made their way to the interview room, she expected that things between them would slot back into place easily, as though Lucifer had never been gone at all. Their dynamic at home certainly had; the to and fro between them as natural as it had ever been. At work, they had their routine during interrogations down to a fine art, playing off each other in almost perfect synchronisation as they manoeuvred their way around lawyers and criminals, both of whom were more than used to dodging the techniques police officers used in these situations. But not _their_ techniques. Because what human could ever prepare to be questioned by the Devil?

_What do you desire?_

It never failed to fascinate her, the way people reacted to such a simple question. Four words, revealing secrets that might have never seen the light of day if not for him. Sometimes she wondered what she would confess, if his abilities actually affected her. She was pretty sure she knew the answer, especially now, and she was _definitely_ sure it was one he would like.

The success of their partnership was enough that sometimes there were interviews where Lucifer's otherworldly charms weren't required at all. Which when it came to documenting such conversations, was actually a good thing. Too many cases closed with suspects admitting their guilt after being asked the same question, time after time… well, surely that would cause someone to notice, somewhere down the line. And while she very much doubted such a thing would lead to the truth about Lucifer's identity coming out, it would certainly cast suspicions over the duo. Cops might be more than willing to look the other way if it led to a conviction; outside parties, not so much. Lucifer knew that as much as she did.

Which was why it was such a surprise to see him march into the interview room ahead of her that day, fists slamming down onto the table in front of him with a bang. Their suspect almost jolted right off his chair, before inevitably being caught under the Devil's spell as he caught his eye. By the time she stood by her partner's side, the man's face was already growing slack, his eyes glazing over. "Tell me," Lucifer growled, leaning further forward as he towered over him, making avoiding his gaze an impossible feat. "What is it you desired, hmm? _What did you do?_ "

"I… I…" the man started, and she was tempted, just for a second, to let it pass. If he confessed, it was an easy result, a job done. Lucifer already had him on the hook... would it be so bad to let him finish? But she rejected the idea as quickly as it came. This wasn't their case, and that meant having to stick to procedure even more than usual. The last thing she wanted was to put Dan in the position of having to try and cover up for their mistakes. It was bad enough that she had to do it half the time.

Her momentary pause had given Lucifer the time he needed to push even harder. She could almost feel his power in the air, the atmosphere heavy as the gravity in the room seemed to thicken. The pressure was immense, and suddenly she understood with perfect clarity exactly _why_ so many people crumbled underneath the weight of his stare.

"Stop, please stop," the man whimpered, and his distress spurred her into action. She caught Lucifer's arm, expecting it to be enough to grab his attention. It wasn't. She may as well have not even been in the room for all he cared. His focus was solely on the snivelling man in front of him, his determination to break him clear.

She tried again, roughly tugging on his elbow until he turned to look at her. His eyes flashed red, just for the most infinitesimal of moments, causing her to gasp instinctively. Relief quickly followed, as she thanked… not God, but _someone_ out there, that he'd been facing away from the observation window at the time. _"Lucifer!"_ she snapped, trying to keep her voice low enough as it wouldn't be heard. _"What are you doing?"_

"Isn't it obvious, Detective?" he said, not concerned with the volume of _his_ voice in the slightest. "I'm getting on with things so we can put an end to this bloody charade already."

She could see it then. It was there in the tension that ran through his shoulders, the way his hands flexed at his sides. This wasn't boredom, or frustration; he was genuinely infuriated that they were having to do this, to be here. _A waste of time,_ that's what he had called therapy. Now she realised that he wasn't referring to Linda's lack of ability to help him, but that there were simply other things he would rather be doing. Which made sense, now that she thought about it, considering he believed he only had a set amount of time each day before... well, before she ended it.

Tightening her grip on his arm, she indicated with a finger to their interviewee that they would return in a minute and dragged Lucifer out of the room. She was pretty sure that the shaken man wouldn't even notice their absence though, not with the way his eyes were fixed so firmly on the table, his body faintly rocking back and forth. The Devil willingly let himself be pulled around the corner out of sight, as happy as always to let her take the lead. Especially when…

"Getting forceful, Detective... I like it," he said, his tone dropping several octaves to a low timbre that caused her heartbeat to pick up and her breathing to grow shallow. His ire from just seconds before completely evaporated into thin air, replaced by something darker, more… primal. Somehow, without her even being aware of it, he had her backed up against the wall, his mouth dipping to her neck as he whispered, "Now this is a more productive use of our time, don't you think?"

His words were like a bucket of cold water being thrown over her head. She pushed him away with a huff, taking hold of her anger and clutching onto it with everything she had. "That's not why I made you leave that room, Lucifer, and you know it. What did you think you were doing in there? You _know_ that's not how this works."

"Correction," he said, straightening his jacket and fixing his cuffs. "That's not how this _used_ to work. All bets are off, now. It's not as if it makes any difference."

She closed her eyes, wishing she had a coffee and some painkillers right now, anything to help beat back the headache she could forming. "I think you should go home," she said after a few beats. "You're no good to the investigation like this." The interview would be trickier without him, she knew, but not impossible. She couldn't risk him losing it, not in the middle of the precinct. Dan would just have to deal with it.

It was as though someone had flipped a switch in him. "No," he said, standing a little taller, reminding her of an officer reporting for duty. It was an image that made her frown. "No, I—I don't want to leave. I'll do whatever you need me to, Detective. Just say the word." He fixed those big brown eyes of his on her, and she could feel her resolve beginning to melt away.

_Damn him._

Why she had ever thought Lucifer would be the one to have a bad influence on Trixie, she had no idea. It was clearly the other way around. That wounded puppy dog expression had her little monkey written all over it. And, as much as she hated to admit it, it was a ploy that worked on her just as effectively. "Fine," she said, finally giving in to the urge to rub her temples a little, not that it helped at all. "You can stay. Just… play it by the book, okay?"

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am," he replied with a smirk, even giving her a mock salute. Not for the first time, she wondered if he could read her mind. Still, she couldn't help but smile at the sight. He could be such a dork sometimes. His smirk faded as she regarded him fondly, turning into something far softer. He stepped forward, reaching behind her shoulders. Before she had the chance to discourage him, he shook his head, before lightly pressing his lips to her forehead.

"No funny business, Chloe, I promise," he said, his use of her name giving her that same thrill it always did. She held back a moan of relief as he freed her hair from the ponytail she'd raked it into that morning, the tension in her head lessening slightly. As he pulled away, he briefly cupped her face, running his thumbs over her temples. "Better?" he asked, and she nodded with a happy sigh.

"Come on," she said, feeling the last of her ire abate. "Let's get back."

The rest of the interview went smoothly after that. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Lucifer didn't even need to ask for the man's desires again. The short few seconds they'd interacted had managed to literally put the fear of the Devil into him it seemed; a confession spilling from his lips the instant they re-entered the room. As it turned out, it actually made a lot of sense that neither Dan's investigation nor Lucifer's powers of persuasion had managed to crack the case. While it was true that a complicated personality could provide a challenge for Lucifer, this lunatic took twisted thought processes to a whole other level when justifying his crimes. Not that it mattered, in the end. It was another case solved, and hopefully, another step closer to getting her partner settled back into work.

Except that it wasn't. For every step they took forward, Lucifer seemed to take two, or sometimes even three, back again. It was exhausting, a near endless task of keeping an eye on him, managing his temper, finding new ways to draw him back from the edge when she needed to. All on top of trying to do her actual job. But he didn't want to stay away, and she couldn't bring herself to make him. _It was like this before,_ she tried to reason. He had always been quick to anger, difficult to work with at times.

She was lying to herself though, and she knew it. Perhaps that may have been true at the beginning of their partnership, but the Lucifer she knew back then was very different to the man she knew today. Or rather, the man she had known before he went back to Hell. This Lucifer… sometimes she felt as though she didn't know him at all.

Her lack of sleep wasn't helping much either. It wasn't as if Lucifer's nightmares were anything new; he'd dozed off on the sofa next to her more than once only to suddenly jolt awake, his eyes wide and frightened, muscles coiled in preparation to fight off an enemy that wasn't there. But in bed, with her, he always seemed to sleep soundly.

Not now though. Now, he woke her at least once a night, every night. Sometimes, there was nothing she could do to help him, with no amount of shaking or shouting his name able to break through the absolute terror that saw him scrambling at the sheets, sweat coating his forehead as he battled with his inner demons. Or at least that's what she believed, in the beginning. Until the first time he stopped screaming long enough to cry out, " _Chloe… please… no!"_

After that, she was done for. Even when she was able to calm him, she would lie awake for hours afterwards, staring at the ceiling as she tortured herself with thoughts of what the Hellish version of herself was doing to him in his dreams. He may have refused to talk about it much, but she knew enough that her brain was easily able to provide her with her own version of a waking nightmare. Night after night, she tried every trick in the book to try and drop off again, but it was useless.

More often than not she would find herself reading case files in Maze's now vacant bedroom, anything to distract herself from the images haunting her. The sofa would have been more comfortable, but she was reluctant to go too far in case he needed her again, which he only seemed to do more frequently as time went on. Dawn would see her slipping back under the covers beside him, so he wouldn't be alone when he woke. So he could whisper that damn greeting all over again.

_Oh, how I have missed you._

In truth, it was him that she missed. The old him. The him that existed before Hell had gotten its claws into his head. Oh, in so many ways he was still the same, still full of mischief, still as baffled with certain aspects of human behavior as he had always been. He remained her partner, her best friend, and the lover she had secretly hoped he would be, for longer than she would ever be willing to admit. But there was an undercurrent of despair there now, and she didn't know if any amount of love could stem the tide.

She saw it in the oddest of moments. Only a few days ago, she caught him standing at the patio doors, staring into the backyard with what looked like... longing. It wasn't for the first time either. Given that there was a shortcut to the beach that way, it was natural to assume that's what he was daydreaming about. It was a place that was special to them both, after all. But every time she asked him if he wanted to go, that same despair would flicker across his face... and then he would shake his head.

The aversion was difficult to understand. He'd always loved to look out over the water, and she knew for a fact the beach hadn't featured in his loop. There was no reason she could think of that he wouldn't want to go there again. But when her weekend with Trixie came, he proved that, actually, he had no objections at all. Trixie asked to go, and so go they did. Not that the Devil had ever been able to refuse her anything anyway. The only strange thing about that morning was the way he stood by the front door, insisting they took the long way around. But when he smiled at her, ducking his head to whisper in her ear, "The more time spent with you, the better, my darling," how could she refuse?

It was a wonderful day, but painful too, in parts. Lucifer wasn't the only one she was missing. Dan was still being difficult over the amount of time Trixie spent at the apartment with Lucifer there, not helped in the least by her partner's behaviour at work lately. She couldn't exactly put up much of an argument when her ex accused him of being unstable, other than saying there were reasons behind it, and that they were working on it. Watching Lucifer with her daughter though, the two of them lost in a debate over what constituted the biggest sandcastle, she knew without a doubt he would never hurt her.

Trixie though? She wasn't old enough to fully understand, not yet. Dan hadn't exactly been shy with keeping his opinions of Lucifer out of earshot, and she couldn't even imagine what he was saying to Trixie when Chloe wasn't there. As far as her daughter was concerned though, none of it was true. Her monkey had always seen the Devil for what he was. A _good_ man. A man who made her mommy laugh, who snuck her chocolate cake whenever he had the chance, and who absolutely, categorically _,_ sucked at Monopoly. But the consequence of that was, quite naturally, Trixie assumed there must be another reason she was being kept away from the house.

And that reason was that Lucifer had replaced her.

Chloe couldn't really blame her for feeling that way. When Lucifer came back into their lives, everything had changed. With him glued to her side constantly, Chloe hadn't been able to spend one-on-one time with her daughter in weeks. But every time she even hinted at it, he would look at her as though she were planning to kick him out of the door any second. And so it would be the three of them once more.

All of this… it was getting to her. Some days, she felt like a zombie, merely putting one foot in front of the other as she limped from one problem to the next. She was tired of feeling like she was letting everybody down. Tired of fighting with Dan. Tired of hurting her daughter. Tired of being unable to find a way to save the man she loved.

She was just tired, full stop.

So far, Linda was the only one to notice. Whenever Lucifer or Trixie were in view, Chloe used what little reserves she had left pretending to be fine. The problem being, that apart from the five or so minutes at the end of his therapy sessions, Lucifer was in view almost _all_ of the time. In front of Linda though, there was no hiding. The second Lucifer left the room, Chloe would fold in on herself, letting the weariness take her for just a moment. "You need to look after yourself too," the therapist always reminded her. "Stretching yourself too thin isn't good for anybody."

Chloe never replied, never made promises she knew she wouldn't be able to keep. What was the point, when there was very little she could do about it? What other choice did she have, exactly? She had to keep going, to carry on as best she could. Lucifer had been abandoned by enough people in his life, and she refused to be another one on the list. There had to be another way, and she would find it, if she could just push through. If she could just keep ignoring one undeniable truth.

If you stretch something too far, it breaks.

…

The clap of thunder overhead almost managed to drown out the sound of the front door slamming, one of Trixie's latest pieces of artwork drifting to the floor in its wake. Casting an irritated glare towards the newly revealed blade mark on the wall, Chloe kicked her shoes off and dumped her bag, before shaking out her wet hair. The drenched Devil beside her was already in the midst of ridding himself of his jacket, soaked through to his skin.

"Well, that was another evening squandered," he muttered, neatly folding the sodden clothing and placing it on the kitchen counter. "I don't know why you keep insisting on doing this, Detective."

 _Breathe,_ she reminded herself, her fists clenching by her sides. _Just breathe._

He headed for the kitchen cupboard where she kept his whisky, stored safely away on the highest shelf, away from curious hands. By the time she hung up her jacket he'd already poured two glasses, holding one out in offering.

She ignored it. She ignored _him._

Trixie's bedroom door was wide open, showcasing the empty bed inside. Something twisted inside her chest at the sight.

"You're right," she bit out, unloading her badge and holster and dropping them unceremoniously on the table, before setting her gun aside to lock away before bed. "Tonight was a train wreck."

 _Because of you_ , her brain added helpfully, but she didn't voice it out loud. She couldn't. Not yet. Not until she could think clearly. This was a conversation they needed to have when they were both on an even keel, not wet through and pissed off from what had been a disaster of an evening. "I'm going to bed."

She'd barely taken a foot towards the stairs though, when she heard him move, felt the warmth of him against her back. Her eyes closed as she tried to concentrate on staying calm, forcing herself to take a deep, stuttering breath. "Come now, Detective, I'm sure there are better things we could be doing than sleeping…" He ran his fingertips across her shoulders, gently kneading at the muscles there. "Why so tense, darling?" he murmured into her ear. "The bad guy lived to be bad another day, didn't he?"

Her fingernails dug into her own palms as she tried to keep silent. It was no use though. The facade she had so carefully built around herself finally fractured, and she felt it almost like a physical blow, the sensation so intense she was surprised she didn't hear the crack. Without thinking, she whirled around to face him, shoving his arms away from her in the process. More viciously than she intended, she snapped, "Yes, Lucifer, he 'lived'. And he'll probably spend the rest of his days 'living' in an asylum, because of you."

And to her horror, he just… shrugged. "What does it matter? An imaginary man living in an imaginary world. It's Hell for all of us here."

Her shield splintered further. Shards of disappointment, rage and frustration began to bury themselves inside her chest, where she had denied them entry for so long. "Well, I'm glad being with me is so hellish," she said bitterly, marching over to the breakfast bar and sweeping up the whisky he'd left there, downing it in one go.

"Detective, that's not what I—"

"I might not even be a detective for much longer if you carry on this way," she ground out, her fingers tightening on the glass. She didn't turn, couldn't bring herself to look at him. "You threw him into a _wall_ , Lucifer. Who knows how many broken bones he has. And worse, you showed him your face! Your _face!_ We're not even sure if he's the murderer yet!" Reaching for the bottle, she poured herself another measure. _"And now, we probably never will,"_ she muttered under her breath, thinking of the lack of justice for the victim's family, the potential disciplinary ahead, and the dissolution of their partnership.

Another crash of thunder should have hidden her last words, but she could tell that he heard them. It was obvious by the hitch in his breath, by the way he took a hesitant step towards her, before stopping again. She waited, waited to feel the wrap of his arms around her waist, for his words to spin love and devotion around her anger until it vanished into nothing. But that never happened.

Instead, he walked around her, heading into the kitchen. His hand hovered over one of the drawers, before selecting the one below it. "A blade, I think, tonight," he said, almost thoughtfully, opening the draw and skimming his eyes over the contents, many of which he'd added himself over the years. "What do you think, Detective? I'm sure we can both agree I deserve it."

And that was it.

That was the point at which she shattered, when all the walls that had been keeping her together came tumbling down. "Stop it," she said, her voice small, breaking under the strain. He turned towards her, confusion marring his features as he slowly lowered the carving knife he'd selected back into the draw. Her body trembled as he opened his mouth to speak, and she couldn't, she _couldn't..._

She couldn't take it anymore.

" _Stop it!_ " she screamed. " _Just_ _STOP it!_ " Tears began to stream down her face, but she didn't even try to halt them, feeling herself sink rapidly into the utter despair that had taken hold of her. "Do you have _any_ idea what it's like, Lucifer, to hear you say that? To know that you think—that you expect—"

Words left her as she gasped for air, the sobs wracking her body making it difficult to breathe. She barely heard the smashing of glass as her whisky fell to the ground, hardly noticed it leave her hand in the first place. Almost on auto-pilot, she staggered towards the fireplace, instinctively seeking the comfort that only warmth could bring right now. Falling to her knees, she tried to concentrate on stoking the flames, resisting the temptation to return to the only other source of heat in the room right now, the one that could normally comfort her like no other.

"Chloe—" he started, sounding much closer than she thought he was. Refusing to tear her eyes away from the flickering firelight, she shook her head, and he immediately halted.

"I don't know what else I can do," she said quietly. "I keep trying… I do, but you… you just…" Her eyes burned from staring into the fire, and she blinked the pain away, before finally looking at him. "Why don't you believe me?"

She wasn't sure if she had ever seen him so distraught. But the floodgates were open now, and the ache within her chest only grew worse as everything she had been trying to suppress came rushing to the surface. "If nothing is real, then I'm not real…"

A full body shudder ran through her, and she paused, waiting the tremors to even out again before she spoke further. He took the opportunity to move closer, sitting down beside her. When she didn't move away, he raised his hand to her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away a tear. She leaned into his touch slightly, then pulled back with a sigh.

"And if I'm not real, then why do you even care?"

He stilled, his eyes searching hers. Whatever he was looking for though, he obviously didn't find it. "This isn't your fault, Detective," he said wearily, his hand falling back down to play with his cuffs. "None of this would be happening if it wasn't for me. I deser—"

Her anger sparked anew. "Don't say it," she said, pushing herself backwards until she hit the sofa. "Don't even _say_ it."

He stayed still, smiling sadly. "We both know it's true."

She wanted to slap him. To scream at him again. To do _anything_ that might help bring him out of this. But it was as pointless as he considered everything else to be these days. Everything except her. His entire world revolved around her. This wasn't just about what he deserved, but what he didn't. And still, even after all this time, even after everything that had happened between them, the one thing he thought he didn't deserve was her.

Her head snapped up to look at him. "It's not true," she said, grasping at the cushions behind her for support as she rose, righting herself on still shaky legs. He watched her curiously from his position on the floor, refraining from making any attempt to move towards her. "It's _not_ ," she said again, holding the back of the sofa to steady herself as she stared down at him. "And I'm sick of hearing it. What you deserve is what we _have,_ right here, right now. You. Me. Trixie. A _family_. I love you, Lucifer, and you love me. We can be hap—" She paused, taking a deep breath as she gathered herself. "No, not can be, we _are_ happy. We're together. This isn't Hell. It never has been. Please, _please,_ believe me."

He got to his feet, far more gracefully than she, but remained silent. His eyes told her everything he refused to. Refused, because he wouldn't lie. Even here, where he thought the entire world surrounding him was a lie, he couldn't bring himself to lie to her. To tell her what she wanted to hear.

"Tell me you believe me," she begged anyway, tears burning in her eyes once more.

And still, he stayed silent.

And it broke her completely.

"Fine," she said, removing her hands from the sofa and dragging them through her bedraggled hair, pulling at it when she reached the knotted ends, the stingy pain helping to focus her fragmented mind. _"Fine._ "

He never took his eyes off her, watching as she began to pace along the living room floor. "You think you deserve this," she ranted, reasoning through the problem in a way she hadn't done before. "For what, exactly? For sacrificing yourself? For doing the _one_ thing, you always said you would never do? For protecting me? Charlie? Trixie?" She paused, waiting for her point to sink in. "Lucifer, you protected _everyone_. Even Dan."

She heard him harrumph a little at that, the corner of his mouth twitching in the ghost of a smile. But it was progress, and she'd take it.

As quickly as it came though, the smile vanished. "I still left," he said pointedly.

"So what?" she retorted, fire in her eyes as she glared at him. "It's not like you haven't done it before."

He winced, and she silently chastised herself. _Wrong direction, Chloe. Abort. Abort._

"The point is, I survived. I'm still here, and I still want you. I still love you." His face twitched again, but not in anguish this time. No, it was something else. She was getting through to him, she was sure of it. Her breath caught, and for the first time in a long time, she felt the slightest glimmer of hope.

"Yes," she said softly, her eyes falling to the floor. "It hurt when you went back. Of course it did. I mean, I told you I loved you, and you left me. But... it hurts more that you think you should be punished for it. Lucifer, I—"

A small whimper cut through what she was saying. Slowly, she raised her head to look at him, dread curling in her gut. To her horror, Lucifer still stood there, but barely, his entire body caved in on itself. He _whined_ , shuddering so hard that it bordered on convulsing.

She didn't know what to do. Frantically, she thought back over what she'd just said, trying to figure what had caused him to react in such a way. There was no time to dwell on it though. For the first time, it dawned on her just how far out of her capabilities dealing with this was. He needed more than this, more than her, maybe even more than just Linda. But for now, they were all he had, and it was the best she could offer him.

Her mind made up, she stole one last apologetic glance at Lucifer, before heading over to where she had discarded her bag. He didn't even seem to see her, too lost in whatever nightmare had claimed him. After a quick rummage, she located her phone and pulled up Linda's number, hoping her friend still stood by her promise to come when she called. Quickly, she fired off a message, before dropping the phone back inside.

_He needs you._

Cautiously, she turned to face Lucifer again and took a few steps towards him. He stiffened as she grew closer, and she halted. Taking a steady breath, she reached down inside herself, searching for the words she now knew by heart. The words she told him every day.

"Lucifer, it's okay. You're here. You're safe. I love you. I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you. This isn't Hell. You're home. You're _home."_

Something changed in the air, an electricity that had nothing to do with the lightning flashing outside the windows. When he looked at her, his eyes blazed with the fires of the infernal. For a second, she was captivated.

And then she blinked.

He was on her in an instant, so fast she didn't even see him move. His body filled her entire vision, his large frame looming over her in a way that normally made her feel so safe. But not tonight. His face may not have changed, but she could still see the darkness there, a shadow that crawled under his skin, begging to be released. Trapped helplessly within his gaze, she couldn't even look away even when the flames within flared to a brightness so great it was blinding.

" _DON'T LIE TO ME!"_ he roared, and the sound of it drowned out everything, from the rain outside to her own terrified gasp. She stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over her things still scattered on the floor, the blind panic gripping her achingly familiar. It was something she had only felt once before. That fateful day in a loft downtown, where her entire world changed forever.

And then, it stopped.

Everything stopped.

The fear, the anger, the adrenaline… it all faded away, until there was nothing left. Time ground to a halt, the edges of her vision becoming fuzzy as her senses slowed. Some distant part of her was aware she was shutting down, her mind protecting itself as it tumbled over the edge. As she became empty. Lucifer was speaking now, his eyes a familiar brown as he reached for her. He took her hands, but she couldn't feel him, couldn't hear his voice over the buzzing in her ears.

She stared at their joined fingers blankly, until the sound of her name finally broke through. It was enough to make her jerk her hand away, leaving it hovering in the air strangely in front of her. She tilted her head as she looked at it, wondering at the lingering sensation of warmth upon her skin.

"Chloe?" he repeated, and she took another step backwards, lips parting as her racing thoughts settled into one repeated mantra inside her mind. "Chloe, I'm sorry. I—"

_"I can't do this."_

The words echoed into the silence of the room, and it took her a moment to realise she had said them aloud. Once they were out there though, once she heard her own voice saying them, they became something more, solidifying into an undeniable truth.

"I can't do this."

The world sped up again, and suddenly she was scrambling along the wall for her jacket, her need to leave the only thing she could focus on. It clawed at her veins, pulled at her skin, far too strong to be ignored.

As soon as she found it she shrugged it on, grimacing at the feel of wet material. Lucifer was still talking, but she let it fade into the background, grabbing her phone and shoving it into her pocket. When she started to walk towards the patio, he tried to take her arm, but she spun out of the attempted embrace before he could even connect.

"I'm sorry," she said, forcing herself to stare at the collar of his shirt. She knew if she looked him in the eyes, she would stay. And she couldn't stay. "I—I just can't."

When her hand touched the door handle, she didn't hesitate. The feel of the rain as she stepped outside was no longer a curse, but a blessing, a feeling of absolution that she so desperately needed right now. Even the first shiver didn't dissuade her, didn't make her think for a moment about going back inside.

But he did.

It was a mistake to look back, she knew that, and yet just as she was about to round the corner, moving out of sight from the apartment, she did. Lucifer stood there, his body silhouetted by the fire, palms flat against the glass. His mouth was still moving, calling her name. He banged his fists against the doors when he saw her looking. Once. Twice.

And though a part of her heart longed to go to him, she couldn't.

All she could do was walk away.

And even though she thought he might…

He didn't follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note for anyone that may have skipped the fourth chapter... if you're wondering why Lucifer's reaction is quite so bad here, it's because, "I loved you, and you left me," is something Chloe says in every single version of his Hell loop.
> 
> Big thanks to my beta Kay_kat, and sorry for making you cry!


	7. Without You Here, I Become Nothing

How long she sat there at the beach, she didn't know. The rain had died down by the time she reached the shore, but the cool night air remained biting on her still damp skin, with no comfort to be found in the waterlogged jacket she hugged to herself fruitlessly. The moonlight danced on the water, and she watched it without thought, letting the smooth ripples of light wash over her, calming her troubled mind.

Eventually though, the sound of the waves lapping against the sand no longer worked to distract her from what needed to be done. She _had_ to go home. There was no other choice, not one she would willingly make, anyway. And with that acceptance, came the guilt. She'd left him, even though he begged her to stay. How could she leave him, when he needed her?

Then again, maybe _need_ was part of the problem. What if her leaving was actually _what_ he needed? What if it was the solution, the one thing that could make him realise that this couldn't be Hell? Because how could it be, if she wasn't there?

A small flicker of hope lit up inside her. She pictured walking back to the house and finding him there, his mind fully awake, arms open as he at long last embraced reality. They would move on, build that life she had been dreaming of. He wouldn't fear her anymore, and she would _never_ give him reason to, not again.

And if not? Well… they would find another way, just like they always did. _Together._ They had to. They'd been through too much shit over the years to not end up happy. There had to be a solution, some means of helping him that they had yet to think of, and she was determined to find it. She would do anything, _literally_ anything, if it meant getting him out of this. All she had to do was figure it out.

And figuring things out? Well, she had that in the bag.

She stood, brushing off the still damp sand from her jeans, and felt a spark of new found strength deep within. She was willing to fight for this. Despite what he might think, he deserved it. He was _worth_ it, and he always would be. With one last deep breath of the fresh sea air, she pulled her phone out with a smile, finally feeling ready to face the challenges ahead.

Challenges which, as it turned out, weren't actually that far ahead at all. 15 missed calls stared her in the face, along with several unopened messages. It was the flashing voicemail notification that caught her attention first. She hit dial, turning back towards the footpath as she waited for it to connect.

Just a few seconds later, she started running.

She didn't even finish listening to the entire recording, her phone hastily shoved back inside her pocket as she pushed forward, all sense of peace forgotten. Her feet sank into the wet sand, slowing her progress and making her stumble, but she paid it no mind. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting home, and that was what she focused on as she left the beach behind, Linda's voice playing over and over again in her head.

 _"Chloe, you need to come back. Lucifer, he_ — _he thinks Hell took you away."_

She ran faster.

…

The first sign that something was wrong were the shattered panes in her patio doors. She identified the break as having emanated from the spot where she'd last left Lucifer, his hands pressed flat against the glass. Carefully, she navigated the hundreds of shards that littered the ground, only to feel her heart stop in her chest when she saw what was on the other side.

The apartment was destroyed.

Everywhere she looked, there was carnage. It was as though a tornado had ripped through her home, devastating everything in its path. The walls were bare, precious framed memories and her daughter's drawings ripped from their displays, lying broken and torn upon the floor. The kitchen was turned upside down, cupboard doors hanging from their hinges, showcasing the now empty carcasses, their contents spread wildly across the room. Furniture smashed to smithereens, upholstery torn to shreds… nothing was left untouched.

And in the middle of it all, sat Lucifer.

He looked so small, surrounded by the destruction that she could only assume he himself had caused. She couldn't see his face, hidden away as it was by the bat-like wings emerging from his back, wrapping him in a cocoon that hid him from the world. Even from here, she could hear his whimpers, his entire body rocking endlessly back and forth. Linda sat beside him, one hand resting on the arch of his wing, murmuring low words of calm and comfort.

She felt a hand upon her arm.

"I'm so sorry, Chloe." Amenadiel stood beside her, his expression grave. Behind him, the dining room table still remained mostly upright, despite its bent legs and a crack that ran the full length of its surface. One of the chairs looked to have survived as well, enough to serve its purpose anyway. It was neatly tucked underneath, and it dawned on her that the angel had been doing his best to tidy up. Laughter bubbled in her throat, but with an enormous amount of effort, she pushed it back down. This… this was going to take a hell of a lot more than a tidy up.

"Is he okay?" The question slipped out before she could stop it, despite the obvious answer. It was all she could think about in that moment, all she truly cared about. The heartbreak over the demolition of her home could come later.

Amenadiel looked over at his brother, and shook his head. "We got here too late. Charlie, he needed…" When he turned back to face her, she saw sympathy in his eyes. "Well, that's not important right now. We've settled him in Trixie's room, I hope that's okay? Linda… she still doesn't like leaving him with anyone when Maze isn't here."

Dimly, she thought about how she understood that. After Trixie's kidnapping, being separated from her daughter was agonising at first, going against every instinct she had as a mother. She couldn't imagine what it was like having your baby taken away from you, especially knowing even now that the danger would never completely pass. Charlie would always be at risk from the celestial, no matter what any of them did prevent it.

Thoughts of Trixie and Charlie made her realise there was a question she had yet to ask. "Trixie's room?" she asked worriedly, glancing towards the closed door, before her gaze started to drift across the apartment towards Lucifer once more, as everything that wasn't him began to fade into the background.

"Untouched," Amenadiel replied. She nodded. That was good. Her daughter was wise, far too wise for her years sometimes, but even she might have trouble understanding this. The loss of her possessions would be heartbreaking for a girl of her age. Not that it wasn't for herself, even as an adult, but… it was just stuff. Her love for Lucifer and her Trixie outshone all of that.

Linda stood as she approached, immediately pulling her into a hug. "He was like this when we got here," she said, her face apologetic and pinched with worry. "The only thing I've been able to get out of him is, _"They took her. They took her away from me.'_ " She shook her head as she let go, before squeezing Chloe's shoulder encouragingly and offering her a small smile. "I think you'll have more luck."

Chloe nodded, then sank to her knees, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him trembling before her. "I'll be with Charlie if you need me," Linda said behind her, but she didn't respond, all of her focus on Lucifer. In the background, she could hear Amenadiel starting to clean up in the kitchen, the repetitive sound of shattered dishes being swept up breaking into the stillness of the otherwise silent apartment.

As gently as possible, she reached out to touch one of her distraught partner's wings. Almost instantly, he stilled, as though some part of him sensed it was her. "Lucifer?" she whispered quietly. His wing tensed underneath her palm before loosening again as she stroked it gently. Not so long ago, she would have been overwhelmed with fear at the sight of this creature, so twisted and inhuman. But now, all she saw was the human underneath, the one filled with a fear all of his own. The fear of losing her.

"Lucifer, I'm here." She shuffled closer, both hands now able to brush against his leathery skin, reassuring him that she was there, she would always be there, that she hadn't left him. He mumbled something, the sound muffled by his wings, but it sounded like her name. "Chloe. That's it. I'm here, Lucifer, I'm home." His wings twitched, just enough that, for a second, she could see his hands gripping tightly onto his knees, the red scars that marred them a stark contrast against the black of his pants.

There was nowhere further forward for her to move, and so instead, she wrapped herself around him as best she could. It was awkward, and uncomfortable, but she hoped that the heat of her would send his body a message his mind wasn't quite yet ready to hear. "I'm so sorry I left," she said, the first tear falling from her eyes and landing on his ravaged body. More soon followed, until she could see a trail of her despair shining on his skin. "I won't do it again, I promise. Please, Lucifer, let me see you, _please_."

"Chloe?" She felt his wings rippling under her, dragging against her clothes as they retracted, just enough as he could raise his head, enough as he could see her too. When he did, his eyes widened, her name on his lips a choked sound that tore its way out of his throat. _"Chloe."_

His wings flared wide, only to instantly crash back down again, enveloping her in their warmth. He crushed her to his body, the extra appendages attached to his back no different to the arms that locked around her waist, leaving her no room to move as he buried his face into her shoulder. She could feel his chest heaving against her, and when she felt her skin become damp once more, she realised he was sobbing.

"Oh, thank Dad," he gasped between stuttered breaths. "You're back. They took you, but you're back. You were gone…"

He repeated himself, over and over, and all she could do was hold him through it. Eventually, just when she was starting to have trouble breathing, he quieted a little, and she took the opportunity to soothe him as best she could. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to hold back her own tears. "I needed time to think, and I didn't… I should have… I'm sorry. Nobody took me, Lucifer. I left, but that won't happen again. _Ever_. I swear it."

Was it a promise she could keep? She didn't know. But she would do everything within her power to try. Part of her mind was already making plans, arrangements that she would need to set in motion quickly, to give him the help he needed. To give them the space to work this out.

"You were gone," he said again, and in response, she moved her hand so she could brush it against the side of his face, the jagged skin there cutting at her fingertips. He pushed his head into her caress, and as he calmed, his grip loosened enough as she could pull back a little. The second she did though, he whined, moving to tug her near to him once more. Fully anticipating his reaction though, she altered her course enough as the motion brought her mouth against his own.

They kissed until she needed to breathe, at which point she whispered, _"I'm here,"_ before kissing him again, and again, until the roughness of his lips became smoother, and when she ran her hand up and across the back of his neck, she found hair there once more. The Devil faded, and the angel returned to her, just as she had returned to him. As their fervour died, he sagged against her, wings limply hanging to the floor.

She continued to run her fingers through his hair, until his breathing evened out, slowing to the point where she thought he might be falling asleep. When his body weight became too much, she gently encouraged him to sit up, and despite his protests, he complied, swaying a little to the side as he did so. Her suspicions were correct; the exhaustion that had overtaken him was plain to see.

Tracing her fingers down his arms, she grasped his hands tightly, and made to stand. His face dropped, and she nearly fell forward as he attempted to pull her back down, but before she could, his grip altered, and he steadied her instead. "Come on," she said, looking down into his worried eyes and smiling. "I'm tired. Lie down with me?"

His gaze softened, and he nodded. When he tried to rise though, he faltered, his legs refusing to bear his weight. Before she could even try to help, his brother was there, ducking under Lucifer's wings so he could lean on him. Once he was upright, Lucifer tucked his wings away, staggering a little as he did so. Together with Amenadiel, she guided him to the sofa, which at some point had been righted and returned to its normal place, although very little could be done about the ruined covers.

She saw Lucifer look at them, shame written all over his face. "Hey," she said, moving into his eyeline. "It's okay. They're just things. Things can be replaced. All I care about is you, alright?" His eyes dipped away from her, and she knew this was something they would have to come back to in the future. For now though, it was more important that he rest. And, if she were honest with herself, he wasn't the only one who needed it.

With a relieved sigh, she collapsed onto the sofa, positioning herself so that Lucifer could lie down next to her. Amenadiel lowered him until he lay with his head on her lap, her hands carding through his hair. In less than a minute he was sound asleep. Wth her own head resting against the back of the sofa, she began to drift off as well, the noise from Linda and Amenadiel's continued efforts to get the apartment back to some sort of normality drifting into the background.

It was the sound of a cry that woke her. At first, she thought it must have been Charlie, but when she opened her eyes, she found Linda sitting on the other sofa, and Charlie playing quietly on the floor. It wasn't until she felt Lucifer jerk that she realised it was him. Automatically, she ran her hand down his back, between his wings, as she always did when he woke her like this. Sometimes it worked; most of the time it did not. This time though, it was an immediate success, his muscles slackening as he snuggled even closer. In any other situation, it would be cute. Now though, it just broke her heart.

"How frequent are the nightmares now?" Linda asked, and Chloe realised then just how long it had been since they last touched on that topic. Lucifer, of course, had never brought it up, but Chloe let it slip the day she almost fell asleep during one of their sessions. It was a common way for the brain to deal with trauma, Linda informed her at the time, but she had also said it would get better, eventually. So far, Chloe had found it to be the opposite.

"Every night," she replied. "Sometimes more than once." Linda stayed silent, and she wondered if the doctor was thinking about how she was failing him, how they all were. Curiosity struck her. "Does Amenadiel dream?" she asked, wondering what other angels experienced in their sleep, those that were lucky enough to have never been touched by Hell, that is.

Before Linda could answer, the angel in question was there, settling himself down on the sofa. "When I was fallen, yes," he said. "I was, essentially, human, and the human mind is capable of a great many things. Angels, however… we are not made to dream. We were made to follow orders, to be content in our world." He looked fondly at his brother, and for a moment, she could swear she saw admiration there in his gaze. "All except one, that is."

Linda reached across to take his hand. A silent conversation seemed to pass between them, until the doctor closed her eyes, giving a singular nod.

"But Lucifer…" Amenadiel continued, "Lucifer is not an angel anymore, not fully. Hell has changed him in ways none of us will ever fully comprehend. As has Earth, possibly even more so. Going back down there again…"

His hands came up to grasp the back of his neck, head bowing as he leaned forward. When he eventually looked up at her, his eyes were wracked with pain. "Chloe…" he continued, "when Malcolm came back from Hell, he came back… wrong. He came back broken."

She flinched, looking down at the man in her arms and shaking her head. "No, _no_. He's not—Lucifer's not—"

Lucifer whimpered again, drawing his legs up close to his chest as he curled up into a ball far smaller than someone of his stature should have been capable of. He stiffened, shouting out in his sleep, before quieting down again, although not completely.

She almost wished she didn't know what was happening. Wished for the blessed ignorance of the fact he was dreaming of her, and that she was killing him, in every way his mind could conjure. And for someone who had spent countless millennia overseeing the punishment of mortals… that was a _lot_ of different ways.

"He's the Devil, Amenadiel," she said, with one last shake of her head. "He's not _human_. Hell didn't break him before, why would it now?"

Amenadiel followed her gaze to where his brother lay sleeping, taking in the ever increasing tremble running through his frame. "Lucifer is far more human than you think," he said softly. With a slow exhale, he lowered himself to the floor, moving closer to the sofa, until he was crouched down beside its restless occupant. Tenderly, he reached out, pressing his hand to Lucifer's chest. His head lowered once more, the angel remained motionless, and the seconds ticked by in silence. Just as she was about to say something though, Lucifer suddenly relaxed, the tension flooding out of his body in waves, until he looked more at peace than she could ever remember him being.

After a few shaky breaths, Amenadiel lifted his head, and she could see the shine of tears in his eyes. "And if you believe Hell never broke him..." he said, removing his hand and gently brushing back the hair from his brother's forehead, "...then you are just as blind as I was."

Chloe tore her eyes away, unable to watch at the heartbreaking scene any longer. Could she have really not seen? She knew Lucifer wasn't always as strong as he made himself out to be. This wasn't the first time he'd fallen apart in front of her, by any means. But… it was always something to do with his Father, or a case, or, she hated to admit, with her. In Hell though, he was a king. Hell was _his_ , wasn't it? He'd talked before about being cast out from Heaven, and how he hated that the evils of the world were put upon him… but he'd never talked about Hell itself. What it was like for him there. How it made him _feel,_ being responsible for torture of the damned.

It was a job, something he was forced to do, that was all he had told her.

And she… she'd asked him if he _enjoyed it._

Amenadiel was right. She _had_ been blind. Hell had gotten hold of Lucifer a long time before he went back there, and now, it was refusing to let him go.

It wasn't Lucifer's mind they needed to defeat, it was Hell _itself_.

Right then, she knew without a doubt, that was the key. Up until now, they'd been treating Lucifer as if he were human. He wasn't. They wouldn't find the solution based on human knowledge, for how could they? The celestial world, it was so far out of their realm of understanding that it would be impossible for any mortal to fathom it.

But Chloe Decker wasn't just anyone. She was the Devil's first love. His only love.

And she wasn't alone, either. She had an angel by her side, a demon, and the only other human alive who knew Lucifer better than he knew himself.

"Chloe?" Linda said softly, "Are you alright? Can I get you anything?"

For the first time since leaving the beach, Chloe smiled, a smile filled hope and determination. "We're going to need coffee. Lots of coffee."

Amenadiel rose to his feet at the same time Linda did, but just as the pair were about to leave for the kitchen, Chloe leaned over the back of the sofa, catching the angel by the arm.

"And then," she said, leaving no room for argument in her voice whatsoever, "you're going to tell me _everything_ you know about Hell."

…

One hour and three cups of coffee later, that hope started to die a little. Despite the situation, Linda refused to divulge anything had Lucifer talked to her about in therapy, and in addition, she insisted that would remain the same even if he did give permission. Chloe knew, in her heart of hearts, that she was right to do that. Lucifer didn't believe any of this was real; of course he wouldn't care if Linda spilled all his deepest, darkest secrets.

And she knew he still had them. She wasn't a _complete_ idiot.

That understanding though, didn't stop her frustration at their lack of progress. Even more disappointing was Amenadiel's absence of knowledge on the subject. She already knew he had no idea how much time differed in Hell compared to Earth; he'd made that clear months ago. But she hadn't quite realised the scope of his ignorance when it came to the kingdom his brother had been banished to.

"I guarded the gates," he repeated for the second time that evening, "nothing more. I never went inside."

"You didn't…" she trailed off, speechless. After a minute, she said, "Did any of you?"

Amenadiel blinked, not seeming to understand the question. "Did any of you visit him?" she clarified, her fingers tightening around Lucifer's hand. "Did one single member of his _family_ actually go down there to check on him, to see if he was okay?"

Hesitantly, Amenadiel shook his head. "Hell is not a place for angels."

"Just the angels you no longer care about," she snapped back. God, it was no wonder Lucifer bore so many wounds. Vilified by everyone in existence. Humanity, his family, even her, once. And yet, he was still _him_. Able to find joy in the smallest of things, generous to a fault, and forgiving. Unbelievably forgiving. Amenadiel had forced him back to Hell time after time, and yet here they were, still brothers.

She couldn't forgive that so easily. She hadn't forgiven herself for it, either.

Linda glanced up from where she was attempting to rock Charlie to sleep again. "Chloe, that's—" she started, but Chloe wasn't in the mood to be told she was wrong.

"The truth," she said sharply. "Isn't it, Amenadiel?"

The normally stoic man closed his eyes and nodded shamefully. "I owe Lucifer a great debt, we all do. Not only for our abandonment, but for the sacrifices he has made." He looked to Charlie. "He's done more to protect our son than I ever have, or ever will." Reaching out, he gently ran a finger along the now sleeping toddler's hand, smiling when the boy grasped it tightly. "We will do all that we can to help him, you have my word."

A few seconds later, Linda spoke. "There is something…" she said, carefully lifting Charlie and placing him in his father's arms. Amenadiel stood, carrying the slumbering child to Trixie's room. "It didn't happen in session, so technically I can tell you, but... really, it should be Lucifer doing this." She hesitated, and Chloe could see the conflict there. "I don't even know if it will help…"

Chloe interjected before she could change her mind. "Learning about Hell, it's the only thing I can think of, Linda. He's spent so much of his life there, and yet he talks about it in detail so little. And now, he thinks he's trapped there forever. If I'm going to help him, I need to know what I'm dealing with."

Linda took a deep breath, her eyes falling on Lucifer, as if silently asking for forgiveness. "It happened about three years ago. You were in the hospital, hours away from dying."

She felt her heart twist, just for a second. It actually wasn't the memories of the poisoning itself that were painful, but rather, what happened afterwards. One of the many mysteries Lucifer had never explained. She wondered if she was about to get that explanation now.

"He saved me," Chloe whispered, her hand resting over Lucifer's heart. "Just like he always does."

"He did," Linda said. "But did you ever think about _how?"_

It struck her then, just how little she knew about that day. From what she'd heard, Lucifer got there just in time, somehow managing to recite an entire formula for an antidote from memory, before collapsing into a chair. A chair he had apparently stayed in for hours, until the doctors had finally given her the all clear.

And then, of course, he left her. For the first time, but not the last.

By the time he returned, two weeks later, it just… didn't seem important anymore. She'd been so focused on how much he had hurt her, that she hadn't pushed any further on how he had saved her. Like so many things, she brushed it under the table; just another item on the long list of things her partner had done that were unexplainable.

But... he got the formula. A formula that only one man on Earth had known. A _dead_ man. Which meant the only logical conclusion was…

"He went to Hell, didn't he?"

Linda nodded, then leaned over to the coffee table to pick up her wine. The therapist had given up on coffee after the first cup, which was around the same point Charlie woke up for the third time that night. "Maze and I sent him there."

Chloe frowned. "Sent?" she said, confused as to how that could even be done. Back when she spent weeks searching for a way to bring Lucifer home, Maze told her that summoning or banishing him was impossible. _"That poison they gave you, it would have probably killed him. If Lucifer dies, he wakes up in Hell. No need for any kind of bullshit ceremony."_

Linda answered her next question before she had a chance to actually ask it. "We killed him. Well, technically, he killed himself, but..." She paused, wringing her hands together for a moment, visibly reliving the memory. "It was the only way to get him down there."

Amenadiel re-entered the room, checking the baby monitor before picking up the wine bottle and refilling Linda's glass. She smiled at him gratefully. "He had no wings," he added as he sat down again. "Linda is right, it was the only way. And, thank Father, it worked."

"Thank Lucifer, you mean," Chloe corrected without thinking, her mind still trying to process this new information. She shook her head, trying to clear it. "But how does that help? The last thing I want to do is send him down there again."

Linda took another sip of her wine, swallowing heavily. "You wanted to know what the time difference was. The plan was to send Lucifer to Hell for 60 seconds. Maze said that would be enough to locate the professor that poisoned you."

"Enough time…" A tendril of dread began to twist its way around her gut. "How much time?"

"About a day." The rest of the wine in Linda's hand soon disappeared as she drained the remainder of her glass. "I'm sure you know what that means."

A day. A _day_. If one minute was a day… "Linda, he was gone for nearly a _year._ How long…" She choked, the hand previously resting on Lucifer's chest flying to her mouth. "How long was he—?"

The answer came from where she least expected it to.

"2000 years… ish. Emphasis on the _ish_ ," Lucifer groaned, shifting onto his side and burying his head in her stomach. "Do you think you lot could be a bit bloody quieter?"

She didn't mean to start crying, she really didn't. But the idea of it… the enormity of that amount of time was too much. 2000 years. 2000 years, in _Hell._ A Hell he still thought he was in. 2000 years in a prison of his own making, where _she_ was his torturer. How was she supposed to help him deal with that? It was a task that seemed insurmountable.

Soft hands touched her face, wiping away her tears. She felt Lucifer shift from the sofa to the floor, his comforting touch not leaving her for a second. He knelt in front of her, guiding her head forward until it rested against his own. "Don't cry," he pleaded softly, "Please don't cry, not for me."

"He's right, Chloe," Amenadiel said, making her jump slightly. For a moment, she'd forgotten he and Linda were still in the room. "Celestials… we don't feel time in the same way humans do."

She felt Lucifer freeze, and after a few seconds, he pulled away, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night, _little_ brother?" he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl.

"Luci?"

Amenadiel was staring at them both with concern. Slowly, Lucifer turned away from her, facing his brother head on. "First born… you still think that makes you the oldest, don't you? If time in Hell is so much more than it is on Earth, how do you think that compares to Heaven, hmm? Heaven, where the days are stretched so long and paradise is unending. How many eons of torment do you think I endured, while you lived out the years in peaceful bliss?"

He laughed again then, bitter and biting. "If it wasn't for the fact the bastard lives outside of time, I'd probably be older than Father by now."

"Luci, I'm sorry…" Amenadiel looked completely lost. "I didn't know."

Lucifer turned away again, back into the cradle of her touch. "You never cared to ask, did you?"

Older than God. Her partner could be _older than God._ The mere concept was completely impossible to wrap her head around. She'd thought about how old he was before, of course, but the scale of it… somehow, it had escaped her. He was around when the dinosaurs were, for Christ's sake. Crap, he was around when _Christ_ was too, if he was actually real.

The information spun around in her head, until it finally escaped her in the form of a slightly hysterical giggle. Lucifer stared up at her, his eyes filled with worry. "Chloe, are you okay?" he asked, removing his face from her hands and placing them on her lap, running his thumbs lightly over her fingers.

She nodded, gulping at the air as she tried to keep any further laughter inside. This whole thing was _insane_. Her lover was older than the Earth, and yet he looked at her like she was the sun. How crazy was that? And to think he had spent most of that never ending life in the worst place in existence…

"How are you still _you?"_ she blurted out, yanking her hands from his to wave them at his general… Luciferness.

He smirked, and she realised he was probably thinking of the last time she'd done such a thing. "I can't say it's something I've considered," he mused. "I am who I am, I suppose."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed to change his mind on what he was going to say, his head tilting to the side as he examined her curiously. "You've been through much in your life, darling. Tell me, has it changed the essence of who you are? Your kindness, selflessness, your need for justice?"

"I'd like to think not," she replied, gradually understanding what he was getting at.

"Well then," he said with a wry smile. "Angels are not much different to humans in that regard, it seems. I may not be who I once was in Heaven, and Hell has certainly left its mark, but at my core, I remain the same."

"Yes, you do, don't you?" she said, smiling back at him. _A loveable, childish, completely wonderful, idiot. My idiot,_ she thought to herself.

His eyes shone. "But you bring out the best in me."

She couldn't help herself, she just had to kiss him then. He rose on his knees to meet her, arms tugging her closer. It wasn't a chaste kiss, by any means, and when she eventually had to pull away to breathe, she found both Amenadiel and Linda were staring very pointedly in opposite directions of the room.

Lucifer went to dive back in, but she stopped him with a gentle push on his shoulders. He rolled his eyes, glancing at his brother. "Spoilsport," he mumbled under his breath. Raising his voice, his added, "Isn't it time you two were going?"

Chloe smiled apologetically at Linda. "It's certainly time for you to get some sleep," she said to Lucifer, affectionately running her fingers through his hair. She hadn't failed to notice how close to dozing off again he was, having witnessed him fighting back the need to yawn at least twice. The couple of hours of sleep he'd managed to get were in no way enough to combat the stress of the evening.

He shook his head. "I believe you had questions, _Detective."_ He stressed her title very deliberately, looking positively delighted at the idea of being interviewed. She wondered just how much of their previous conversation he'd actually been awake for.

"Lucifer…" she protested, but he was adamant. "Fine," she said after a few moments. "A deal then."

His eyes gleamed wickedly. "Well, now you're speaking my language," he said, sounding even more thrilled, if that were possible. "Do go on, Detective, what deal with the Devil do you wish to make?"

She bit her lip as she contemplated, and his eyes flickered to the movement. Her hand still on his shoulder, she nudged him playfully. "Two questions, and then sleep," she proposed, the exchange eerily reminding her of negotiations with Trixie when it came to bedtime.

"Three questions, some privacy, and _then_ bed," he countered, a glint in his eye as he practically purred that last word. Internally, she chuckled. Lucifer might have incredible stamina, but he'd been in her bed for months now. She knew without a doubt that the moment his head hit the pillow, he would be dead to the world.

"Deal," she said, and the Devil grinned.

Behind them, Linda began to gather her things, along with the scattered toys her son had left on the floor. Lucifer stood, his hand resting on Chloe's shoulder, and the therapist glanced up at them both with a smile. "We'll give you two some space then," she said kindly, prompting Amenadiel to go and get Charlie. "And Lucifer? I think it's time we had another session soon. I can come here, if you like?"

Lucifer looked reluctant, but he nodded nonetheless. "I would appreciate that, Doctor," he said. After surveying the damage surrounding them though, he added, "Perhaps after we've fixed the place up a little?"

"My office then," Linda replied firmly. At Lucifer's expression, she raised a hand, stopping whatever he had been able to say in its tracks. "For now."

Chloe lay her hand over his, squeezing softly. "You need it, Lucifer," she encouraged. "We both do."

He sighed, but she already knew what his answer would be. It was there in the tender way he looked at her as he reluctantly replied, "Very well. As you wish."

Amenadiel rejoined them, Charlie fast asleep in his arms. "Goodnight, brother. Chloe," he said with a nod. Shifting his son into a position that would allow him to hold him with one arm, he offered a hand to take the now full bag of toys from Linda. She passed it over with a fond shake of her head. It was clear who did the literal heavy lifting in their parental partnership.

Lucifer was just turning towards the kitchen when Amenadiel spoke again. "We must talk soon, Luci," he said solemnly. "It seems I have much to atone for."

To her surprise—although perhaps it shouldn't have surprised her at all—the Devil waved him off. "Water under the bridge," he said, before a smile crept over his face. "You should really learn to fly under those, you know."

"One time! That was one—" Amenadiel broke off, shaking his head, and Chloe recognised perfectly that moment of realising it was pointless to argue. Something she had experienced many, _many_ times over the last few years with Lucifer. "Ready?" Amenadiel asked Linda, who nodded before smiling at Chloe.

"Good luck," she said quietly, and although Lucifer was already in the kitchen—no doubt hunting for an unbroken bottle of whisky—out of the corner of her eye, Chloe saw him stiffen a little.

The pair left, and Chloe waited until she heard a huff of defeat, and the sound of glass being thrown into the bin. "That was one of my better Macallans," she heard him grumble.

As he wandered back, she greeted him with a small smirk. "I'm surprised you risked that, with Maze here."

"Better than having to risk drinking boxed wine," he shot back, but there was very little humour in it.

He sank down onto the sofa, and she cuddled up to him immediately. Bit by bit, she felt him relax, until his breathing evened out and his head rested against hers. "We don't have to do this now," she said, wanting to reassure him. "It can wait until morning."

"No," he insisted, one hand coming up to clasp hers tightly. "It feels right to do it now, after…" he waved his free hand at the apartment.

"Okay. But… you know I'm not angry about that, right?"

The only answer he gave was a small sound of disbelief as he studiously avoided her eyes.

She moved away, but didn't let go of his hand as she tucked her legs underneath her, sitting across from him on the sofa. Bringing a hand to his cheek, she forced him to look at her. "I mean it, Lucifer. This wasn't your fault."

He shook his head. "I think you'll find, darling, that this was _literally_ my fault."

Awkward as the position was, she pulled him into a hug, hearing him sigh in relief as he nuzzled his face into her neck. "You couldn't help it," she said, standing her ground. "And I understand. And you'll never do it again, because I'm never _leaving_ you again, you got that?"

She felt him nod against her skin. "I do believe you're rather stuck with me anyway," he murmured, and the sinking sensation in her heart that plagued her so often set in. He considered her as much of a prisoner as he was, whether she was real or not.

Stroking his back as comfortingly as she could, she prepared herself for the next step. When she finally released him, he looked at her with red rimmed eyes, full of love and trust.

He thought he was trapped in Hell.

It was time to get him out.

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle up, it's going to be a rough ride.
> 
> Feel free to come and yell at me for being too angsty on [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/NotOneLineFF)


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